Occasionally
A phrase holds on
It rises and rides through the seasons
Filed away, it fills, instills, chills, simmers
Echoes of a slight suggestion
Build in the background of a quiet mind
Until the chaos writhes
And breaks through the winsome din
It was but one simple phrase
Several years left behind
A lone sliver of paper
The words still on my mind
Imagine….
A sheet of paper
Blank
New
A pencil
Hold the pencil
Touch it to the paper
A point
The point where life begins
Spirit
Draw a line
To another point
Body
Turn, drawing another line
To yet another point
Thought
One more line
Back to the point
Where pencil met paper
A triangle
Representing you
For an instant, there is peace
Understanding
But
Is there more?
Encircle the triangle
A nice, neat package
All represented
All that is you
And all that is everthing else
And the circle connects
But
But
If all you are is in the circle
If all you are is the triangle
Then we can never really touch
Ten billion lonely triangles
Until
Until
The eraser
Erase the lines
Color outside the lines
Tear up the paper
Stop trying to be
And just be
Just be.
sandpaper of the soul
gratitying pain
sanctifying rain
move toward the whole
take a breath of air
feel the cleansing power
walk another hour
breathe out the despair
waves of ocean blue
kiss the sands of time
footprints fade away
left by me and you
leave another ryhme
smoothed again today
