Thoughts Set Afloat Like a Gypsy Moth Over 10,000 Streetlights.
Just some very scattered thoughts
(A.) we write with
the edges of our souls sharpened by emotional grinding day to day and what flows is the innermost gleanings of our deepest hopes and dreams.. (B.) when the mesh of flesh is finally fresh and and is not electronic blips and quips that slip rapidly over the many miles then the faces will hold more then traces of smiles that will replace all the hunger that was once palpable and left wanting... until then it is poems that are the fingers that etch memories onto the skin of each others membranes of the mind... (C.) I have seen the night walkers in the streets of New York's canyons and on the dusty back roads of Montana and in the graveyards of the military dead at 3:00 a.m. I have been a night walker and strolled the darkness following a slice of sorrow thinly cut like a sliver of moonlight.. .
there are always puddles when
there are night walkers..
puddles of blood...tears...sweat and rain..... there are night walkers who still stagger in the tunnels of former guerrillas in Vietnam though the reason for their three mile stare is long gone there are Night walkers all over the world and they converge at some point
and become a shadow that blots out the day...
this is the darkest hour before dawn... (D.) when dreams leave open wounds in ones soul and the only thing to bind it is the one who is bound
for somewhere else.. then there is little one can do but be alone and nurse the slashes of solitude back to a reasonable facsimile
of what they once were... (E.) in the cocoon of night's embrace we fold our wings and float on the dreamy cushions of thought... that let us fly beyond all that life could ever offer and the translucent and rainbow hues of our wings in this never, never place are of such sheer beauty that we awaken with tear dust in both of our eyes (F.) God's ear is always
attuned to the voice of a child.... and he cherishes them as
the highest amidst all of his creations... he grants them a period similar to Adam and Eve's.. a few blissful years of pure innocence to play and frolic in the big wonderful world without the burdens of sin or guilt or responsibilities (G.) The moon pulls souls together just as it folds the waves
one over the other..... it has viewed the passion
of thousands of years
in the wilds below it.... it is always just outside the window with a fingernail smile
or a bright beaming ray that illuminates two sets
of lips entwined times ten billion
all over the planet. The moon is a voyeur
who helps stir the scenes like a director who
orchestrates the moods and the settings and
we are but actors under his tides of impulse. We have walked on his dusty face but he has gleamed in the eyes of countless coming together by two's for centuries and he is the love light...the night light that illuminates passions trysts (H.) Sadness....is an ivy clinging to the walls of ones soul blotting out the light that normally glows warmly through the membranes of ones inner self... it is a poison ivy that irritates and disturbs.... and lingers long after contact with the offense that caused it is gone..... salt can kill the root of the sadness.. the ivy..though poison... cannot tolerate salt.. and withers..so let the salty tears flow freely over the ivy walls of your souls and wither the root and then let the light and warmth of ones smiles enter in and set you in a clear place ...free of entanglement.. (I.) am done for now....
Here is the best comment I have recieved on this gathering of thoughts:
By-Fairie Princess- a fellow poetess
Wonderfully thought provoking
(A)We are the space between pen and paper.
(B.)Blips, quips and static duplex lines will fade into a lost echo when once we dare to come face to face and feel the give under skin that will etch our beings in the nooks and crannies of our souls. If....we dare and take that chance.
(C)I am grateful for night walkers, it lets me know that I am not alone. For they understand and respect my three mile stare. It is their hand that reaches out and grabs mine when like quick sand I can feel the abyss of that darkest hour, for only they know how easily one can be swallowed by it.
(D)the somewhere else had been right where we are. but sometimes we can't see through the mind numbing pain we were left with. giving us the space to lick our wounds they come to us in our dreams. reaching out to us tossing the "reasonable facismile away, as they grabbed hold of the original" which makes waking up all the more difficult. because damn it felt real! and when we do, finding ourselves on our knees or knees to our chests in our beds.
(E)Many is the time I've woken with my arms wrapped around me tight... tears washing the dust from my eyes but keeping that feeling with me for that is what gets me through my day... that and the hopes and dreams that I will know that least once before I go HOME.
(F)Hopefully they have been pure and blissful and unmarred. Hopefully we keep at least the essence of childhood with us and we do not forget how to play and frolic.
(G)and is also the nightlight that helps us find our way in the dark. Setting the world aglow. (H) and emerge reborn.. unafraid to let the traces of tears be seen by the one who cares for you and instead marvel at the kalidescope of colors they created.
(I)...we are never done. Not while we have breath.
(J) For there was thought that followed this ~~And I love that you provoked mine.Know that with over 10,000 street lights, I was attracted to yours, for surely yours burns the brightest.
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III