NINE POINT VIEW

Continue Please…

The speed of light and life

retreats into a chamber, dwelling

safely within a cocoon.

A tapestry of visions enlighten,

brighten, removing all that frightens

the weakest soul.

Making complete and whole, in its entirety,

threads of love still flow.

And so I sew, my cocoon, with broken fingers,

dreams and Tartan visions

dancing in the silver lights with singers

of the song.

I dance. I DANCE!
I dance and bring the light with me, a butterfly,

a leaf, a bee. I dance.

A wasp, an ant, a hummingbird,

A lotus flower within a word.

I dance. I sing. I celebrate.

A sideways glance into the eight,

devoured herb, it’s bitter taste…

I will not let this lesson waste.

I dance with broken legs.

I DANCE! I cry to sister moon

and father sky.

I dance with heart and more than chance.

I dance because I must. I AM!

Becoming, I am becoming…

because I am.

And so I dance.

I dance between the sound of oceans,

rivers rolling,

I dance within the thunder,

across the sky with strolling clouds.

I dance, I sing the unknown song

with open heart, rendered earth.

I dance renewal for our birth.

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I lost MY HEART

The distance is far too far
So much so /that I couldn’t even get into a car/
and get me to the one/ one place that I want to dream.

We’re so far apart/I wouldn’t know what to do with this heart
If it wasn’t that we were as close as we are…
In all our thoughts and schemes

Waltzing between each star that fires …
its Planetary Placements, visions and desires
Life has it’s destiny and requires
dancing between each nebulous that expires.

We cry the distance is too much
And listen to the echoes of our loves sweet voices
waiting for that touch
while living with lifes choices.

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FOUND

I ran across a book today…

Tattered from front to back,

left on the floor in a waiting room…

a librarians’ heart attack.

The cover was missing

the back was gone

the edges were crumpled

but to me…it was dawn.

You see I had a memory

while I waited in this room

something better to do

than seethe and stew or fume.

I picked it up, a habit,

I don’t leave books on the floor

I opened the pages a bit

then opened them some more.

And here is where this story grows

as words fell off the pages

my memory took me back a bit

to memorizing phrases.

I memorized an old poem…once.

It’s still with me today.

All I do is close my eyes

and open my mouth to say…

But then you need your own poem

to remember for times like these

when stuck inside a waiting room

without a window or breeze.

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Please remember all work is copywritten by Kristine B. McAnelly.