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Sometimes

Sometimes,

seeming gets no belief

how do we happen

then die to re-live

everything done ever before

constantly new,

to be explored,

 

a consistently

patient

painting

that paints

itself

while waiting,

for foreign audience

and coward witness

to speak the puzzle,

or have it written

with

either conductor’s wand

or director’s lenses,

the painter’s brush,

or the lover’s linens,

 

an obvious and silent song

lay visibly hidden

in the pouring ponds

reflected vision

shining lessons

within

to destroy,

create,

forgive,

without a tension,

 

lest not we mention

our carelessness now,

lest not we mention

how far off we’ve gone,

lest not we mention

this play’s final bow,

 

till somebody mentions

we know not

 

why,

what,

when,

where,

or how

eyes flit

and raise your brow,

till split

life makes a smile

appear

crystal clear

so that muddy fears

unapologetically fade and eventually disappear

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One response to “Sometimes

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