Its a blend of all things, really,
as I stare into the well which ripples back at me.
Dropping a coin down it is like
wishing something inevitable isn't going to happen.
But I feel the soul
bouncing from place to place
piercing the heart,
dancing,
from move to move
the choreography is shifting,
a blend of the most contemporary movements,
swaying arms.
the rhythm,
the flow,
it's a blend, really.
But how could I see
the everlasting light of the day
when the blend is something
I can't feel
and yet,
I watch it ripple back at me,
like water that is alive and conscious.
YOU ARE READING
Airplane: A Collection of Poems
Poetry"People are like planes in an airport, and are like water coming and going from shore, some stay when a plane lands from far away, and some go like water receding from the day..."
