Sky

Not every note I write can be a masterpiece

Not every word I feel

Can be spoken

Not everything makes sense all the time

And not everything can be understood eventually...

Not every wound can be healed

and not every joy remembered

But every day can be lived

And every day be experienced

When faith in the present moment

Is held in your heart.

 

Gossamer

Closing my eyes and breathing deeply

I can smell the musk of life moving in the heavy humid air.

The sound of all that is around me sings of the buzz of life

That summer is.

The sky tells the story of the changing seasons in the color of the light

As it fades into the west.

A butterfly floats past fluttering rapidly to stay adrift in the heavy summer air.

And in a snap of a moment

the vibrational frequency whispers

secrets and stories of sound sung only in the story of the summer time dusk.