I.
Still water reflects.
Receives. Accepts
Warm deep-down breath,
Nowhere to get…
except …
to the
clear –still –waters.
New respect.
Something hoiy hovers.
Inner revolution –
motion …
A story abstracted and bending–
spirals out into ocean, beyond the need for an ending.
You are into forever now, and you know no stops.
New formation, outcome unknown.
Still, just a notion –
but In the swing … of the music changing on it’s own.
That IS– the Swing-THING.
In the flow of what we ALways bring.
Reaching and pulling it all into the FREE…
New dreams born -of new reality
Time will. Light Will.
Tip-toe tides tell…
The grey skies smell– of something hiding–
like lovers deciding.
Still under cover…
but some things— holy —hover.
II.
Backwards driving,
somehow surviving.
Somehow still aglow —
in the eye —of this out-of-control.
A stride–powered by make-a -way
THIS sunrise—shimmering with new day-
Occasion to rise –ancestors beckon—
And the other side—well they must wake up– and reckon.
Too dense for pretense –fair is fair.
And they don’t know –how to breathe out there..
But home is everywhere there’s air.
A body of unity, woven together,
migration through time and space—
that must seep into all cracks —
to soften brutal edges —
of this forsaken place.
Time will. Light Will.
Tip-toe tides tell —
the passing is the COMING of time.
DO IT! Ride this wave to the FINISH line.
Reach and pull it all into the FREE,
with that unstoppable resiliency.
Some things holy hover
Grey skies smell of something hiding.
Keep tactics under cover
so it can’t be undone.
then fly in COLOR.
The Time HAS come.
You are into forever now, and you know no stops.’
© Michele Rosewoman