Through more openings,
echos of the familiar, marking, rounding,
still failing to define
the follower of an uncertain path.
Sustained by pain and freedom to express
runs like blood unending...a sign of living not death
seeps through the words, thick and warm and
like fingers with eyes in them know where they're
deep and find pieces that have been missing for years
.....almost threw them away...thought they were obsolete
Who needs them anymore?
What were they for?
....dying in dark corners with other unused parts
of the past
forgotten....almost but how quickly remembered
as if yesterday
A rush of wind takes my breath like high altitude does
and wants to make me
I will do that, but not feel so...
hard to see why...
the ending makes her cry.....
A while ago she wandered close, and I called out ..."beware.......it's no place to go, if you want to come home"
And now she's a wanderer....
in a forest of words and thought
small dapples of light and
colored leaves always changing
if she hadn't been there before
At first she thought it would never work..
there was too much unseen, hidden,
Just another step forward being careful
...yet, no need...
really, she knows her life...herself..
can't be painful...no investment.
Then the words...like spider silk
...attach where they touch.
No matter, only words like anyothers,
until they hurt inside and under skin of thought and memory...
invaded captured bound alone surprised confused
what are they the shapes I see...
seems like some music directs them...
they flow like smoke through one another
...nothing to hear...
...passing in silence...
would be easier to breathe if I went with them
...wordshapes, weaving, shifting, changing...
Don't I know you?
Not you...but you've been here before,
the welcoming does not change the invasion...
but the welcomer and the invader.
One and another
and no other...
It's the same thing, but Antoine said it better
and new is really old
words that can form a curtain