You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...


-Walt Whitman


9.2.11

threads












The heart writes words unabashed,

Colors washed away by time in flight.

But on tip toe they stand, they sneak

Through fractured walls of thought,

And into a wide expanse of calm

Creating ripples I dared, once fought.



She walked through threads of memory

And broke them with ease.

I followed suit putting it all together--

Find the ends and tie without cease.

My feet finally caught on tangled strings

Stumbled hard on knobby knees

I watched as she walked on,

Eyes locked where time actually freeze.





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