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My muse is my heart and it was dimmed in the shadow of sadness and this most certain reality where everything is different now and a new beginning starts to take shape.
The footprint wasn't mine, or was it?
A movie played, the milk spilled.
Slop it in a towel and it rings out the same.
The footprints impression
was sharing the bird song of morning.
Where does joy lie inside your minds eye
Can you still find the means to push forth with grace?
Perplexing how numb life is to the
clicking of the tick tock.
Lost in the steady silence
standing open mouthed catching flies, dumbfounded.
The footprint was moving in on me.
Tossing questions, questioning
Repeating the cycle, here, there
joy, song, life, uncurl this breath,
wake, walk, shine, find the time, ring the rhyme
looking down into the footprint
I knew it was mine.
2 comments:
sad but I hear some future in there, in the recognition of isolation from life.
I'm working on it, thank you so!
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