we stand under a moon gazing upward at its silver face from our earthly spinning diorama of cities and oceans where we silently gather, leaning on the uncertainty of our place, questioning without answer, the miracle suspended in a dark sky
meditation under clouds, eyes reaching upward looking for an angel and a miracle in the breeze, whispering a birthday wish while waiting for its release, and chances are, the belief will settle within, like a candle protected from winds of change and seasons yet
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
solitary, being alone when surrounded, mourning without tears, reliving the past while believing the first words of the relationship can be repeated remembering when pockets were full of sun and moon reflecting the glass of a calm ocean as birds swarmed overhead proving miracles did exist
There’s an element of searching a strong unwritten text reminders of miracles wasted in an alley or a hallway without lights where vapors dribble out confessions like the street artist with a crooked crescent smile chalking his drawings providing them with a soul and eyes that follow and a woman silent … More SIDEWALK AFTERNOON
Walking the dream on legs without stars a release drives within like seasons changing from equatorial spinning pushing us against celestial misgivings of unanswered prayers where whispers and voices strain through burlap separating the living from storytellers as miracles wait to be called out from hiding.
Roger Singer 