More Lore

Her fingers finally feel longer to her.
The ears and nose never stop growing.
Her feet are done.
Her brother, here first, walked and drove
at his own pace and patience grew taller.
Sprouting new grey hairs that draw silver lines
over peach fuzz, made coarseness more reflective
and full and great amens.

There are no coincidences in story.
The ending we will never read.
Ends meet and repeat.
One of a kind assumes kind came first.
Always out of touch with clouds that contain
snowflakes, we thought we could melt together.
Instead we end up in grey
lines of silver and touching someone with story.


Artwork by Pietro da Cortona, c. 1632-1639, in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Add ages

Don't let them tell you

You had just one job,

they always expected more.

They say, Just be yourself,

as though given a choice.

Stand up for yourself.

Don't believe enough is ever enough,

it is only enough.

The first bird and the last owl

awake

are equal aviators

afflicted with (chronic) fomo-curious-itosis.

Silver bullets and linings should help save us

before things change anymore.

We have nothing better to do

than keep busy, make haste and donate

to causes

we make no effect on reason

such as why the wherewithall has

deteriorated and became dilapidated into

three-wheeling metallic adages.

Don't ask. Don't listen. Don’t look Back.

Don't do them.

Reason is revived with hind-

sight. You will see later.

The Truth

will set you free

to follow your heart,

to do what you love,

to be mindful,

to forgive and forget

Thyself

and rest in peace

lying down.

Take it.

Your Time

is up.

Painting by Édouard Manet [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

This way to today

The sun burst forth its light of day

from the desert floor and climbed white-knuckled over 

the frosty rooftops

                                                   beaming a widening smile,

exhaling puffs or clouds 

                      released in a distinct triangular way.

It dawned upon me, 

                                      low lit in golden rays, a sea of 

silver hairs and etched face lines, wisps of cirrus water 

                                       afloat, I am Just

                                       in Time.

Mercurial matters as these at sunrise

the ambience of obvious juncture

                                       enlightenment-the way-

the light leads the I -

Back to the horizon.

Yet again...

This must be the first

genesis

                                                                      Trinity taking the shape of day

like this one, our only Sun.