THE DARKSIDE of the moon hiding its face kindred spirits fastened by a line separating the extremes of fire and ice where time has no standard on surfaces without life static suspended gravity dependent, one side bright the other facing backward with a silent view of undisturbed infinity
morning on the eyes breathing without trying, feet to the floor, a moon landing arriving, stretching like canvas dried in the sun watercolors of the room observed the mirror of truth exposes the shades of a face preparing to change washing and then leaving
surrounded by a skeleton of trees a shudder of wind reveals gravestones of buried souls scattered ashes and dust of heroes and villains tossed together into a gathering of memories where wings and whispers sleep along side of unpacked dreams
one a great force the other invisible both unrestrained resistant to change regardless of seasons constant as gravity seconds move the hands clouds possess miracles comfort eases the pain of the weakness we fail to overcome to change either one lest the gift of each be wasted
breathe, breathe, inhale the aroma the bitter barbed the gentle without wings breathe, breathe, the silence required the answers searched in empty pockets breathe, breathe, the anger consumed the choice not taken the basket half full breathe, breathe the choices once made the crossroads disturbed resting in dreams breathe, breathe out … More BREATHE
he whispered… softly, “one more day,” of sun summer to walk laugh forgive hold pray feel the rain the dirt winter encourage cry sing be kind send a card like myself pet my cat touch the ocean salt air a photo of my parents he whispered softly “one more…. … More SOFTLY
we fear the stranger fallen from grace shaken, unsure hair snarled like side yard vines a reminder of someone chasing you in dreams the eyes, hoping for a sympathy gaze for coins a cold meal, from a warm heart he knows he is out of place, searching for someplace else
the jazz the hip the swagger the sound high life sweat and gin piano sweet horns of life dogs barking neon’s sizzle suspenders and silk pony tails beards and sash fingers snap lipstick and lace cymbals and sticks midnight and the passage to the other side
gypsy notes a vagabond song refreshing, like spring rain, the fragrance rising from warm roads a moment alive sounds from angels a familiar language fluid and flowing a joyful expression breaking within the air circling like mighty winds striking solidly a message completed
on the crowded sidewalk he felt his hands were lost day was slipping silently into a breezy evening the aroma of salt air filled the pocket of his senses city lights robbed the glory of stars making faint a crescent moon he mumbled a prayer like church candles soul dripping … More SALT AIR
Roger Singer 