What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
Without a middle I emphasize
The first and always spell the
Last, adding, for good measure,
A jocular remark referencing a
Populist product with which we
Have come to share our family
Name. Lacking that initial that
Distinguishes Paul Smith as not
That Smith but the one named
John feels like a small but big
Omission. What would I do with
An initial between first and last?
Feelings. Emotions. Is too
Much enough? Is a lot all
There is? A lot can be too
Much or not enough. It's
Hard to sort through and
Too much to feel. It's a lot
She once was beautiful.
That structural beauty sits
Below and around her grey
Blue eyes as a reminder of
A life lived with power and
Grace. She lives with people
Who don't like her very much.
She is dependent on their
Dislike and their care. The few
Moments when she can assert
Some of her will turn ugly for
Her. She has so few skills at
Reaching out, few memories
Of a life where more was hers
And more expected. She keeps
Her hair, long and in a perfect
Bun. Except for that and those
Sharp beautiful eyes she is lost.
The moon shines aggressively
Through my window. Its alchemy
Turning night into day, dross
Into gold. Bright and unwavering
Moonlight becomes my shadow,
My spotlight. As bright as day,
This moon is sister to the sun. It
Peeks stridently into my eyes and
Mingles brightness with my soul.
There can be no sinister darkness
In the orbit of this revealing light.
The sky is a road to a distant
Place but this road ends in the
Distance. The clouds sorta just
Fall off. You can only go so far.
Sometimes your nonsense makes
More sense than all the carefully
Wrought philosophies others take
To heart. What we don't know fills
Our minds with theories and sends
Us scattering willy-nilly in and out
Of rabbit holes. Thoughts can also
Be empty like the junk food you're
Consuming. No value-added just an
Automatically registered ooh or ugh
Sometimes you mumble truth when
Others spew misguided words that
Scatter like ants surprised off their
Hill. You know better. Lying doesn't
Come easily to you. You seek clarity
Until it slips from your tongue like
Honey. Honey is sweet but it is not
A junk food. Honey can, like a well
Thought out thought, add value to
The conversation. It offers cohesion.
What will fire my imagination
Today? Is there hope or love in
The skies to set it soaring high
With aspirations, winged in the
Flight but avoiding Icarus' fate.
Avoiding fire but being fired up,
Oxymoron upon oxymoron rings
In my ears or is it some other less
Familiar trope begging recognition.
Imagination needs its recognition
Too. It leans on the familiar to find
Its trajectory before taking off, high
Or sometimes just skimming. Low
Is another plane, a surface where
Thoughts become ideas and our
Imagination ignites, soaring or
Skimming, avoiding flames but
Fired up with hope, torment, love.
That mirror image changes so
Much. There are details that I
Did not catch. I see them now.
Inverted. Brought into focus.
Viewed anew and seen afresh.
Open everything to be open
To everything. Spring wide
My soul, my heart. Open up
My mind. Let in air, and light.
Open to the good, especially
The good. Let in greatness.
See with eyes wide open why
An open mind is open to the
Better and the best. Keep an
Unhardened heart and expect
Heartening experiences which
Lighten the soul-aching load
Your eyes, your mind can feel.
I am a seeker by instinct
Not by design. I look for
Understanding or heresy.
They are not so easy or so
Hard to find. Following up
Is trickier. You look in the
Corners under which gems
Are hidden; finding them
Can be an adventure or
Just a plain, ordinary task.
Tamara, really