Untitled #2
I woke anew
to the music of the
world surrounding me.
A silent song
that you can’t actually hear,
still it exists.
Do you remember
the old rivers running strong
through the mountains?
How the sun
would paint our necks and
leave us breathless?
Or the moon,
close to full, sending us
into an abandon?
Old Jack hardly
breathing, yet still writing poems
to the world.
Can a life
really be so full that
it doesn’t explode?
Or are we
all lost to the last
rays of sun?
In a moment,
a cackle of birds singing
songs to you.
In the morning,
seeing your reflection, a revelation:
something looking back.
So small, so
simple, it could dissolve at
any moment.
Yet it doesn’t,
it remains, that flicker of
a flame holds
Against a wind
and it whispers something silent
into your ear.
A secret moment
that vanishes in an instant,
but lingers forever.
There’s the sun,
shining onto your street outside,
welcoming the day.