Grey Matter
…Can mistaken ready for a red light
and slide wet across dry sand without
attachment or ignite and then drown its own
spark. Grey matter can ignore roots but
dance to sound; can fall fast from the steepest
side of a mountain because it looked down.
It can knock inspiration back into its earliest
seed-like form. Or pray to be grounded but float
with arms out, eyes closed and make feeling
weary the norm.
Grey matter forgets that new challengers
appear no matter how many have been
beheaded, that attitudes are invisible energy,
contagious, move without any official
word and can advance faster when dreaded.
Like the last call for closing time on
a burning building where the beams file for
divorce from themselves.
Float
Someone observing, may not
see movement. Just lie still…Breathe.
If there is a buzz of comprehension,
softly listen, hear the absolute in your
inner voices. All the programmed
perceptions, the feeling between
emotions and the rocks in the surf,
narrow with every breath.
Borrowed shells…We are like hermit crabs,
On search yet blessed while displaced.
Ever new as we fit ourselves into the
wrap of some worn, previously used
structure.
