When your pulse tugs, listen.

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If you could hold it in your hand

Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion

Would you?
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now

If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?

Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?

We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain

I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing

Me?

I want to hold you in my hand

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8 responses »

    • “I hear you…”
      That is magical, Alarna. The feeling of being heard is something so special…
      “and I am dancing to your tune.”
      I. A. Dore. You.

      I need to stay more connected than I have. You are sugar to my sweet tooth and I miss you oh so much.

  1. These days, here, listening to the beats, the calls to song of small coloured birds before the storm, some for its arrival, others questioning is it just passing, while the woven boast to the grey coats shade the sky, in the just time, where changing breezes bend the dry grass to their whistle in the desert field, lone, a single tree records the press of distant time, in wait wide awake, listening to the beats, the calls to magical song, to each hand in life,love, and changing beauty, wine to each season.

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