The Canon


Seeing the path before envisioning a completed dream.

Possibilities continually cling to secret thoughts
Narrating the poet’s script.
Desire slowly yearning for a space to show itself as
The now waits to live a second chance,
Inspired by remembrance of once being something.

The window opens and closes.

Hope searches into the vista,
Patiently breathing new air into the baggage of old skins.
Eyes materializing one truth, while
The id questions the unseen truth
Hoping the authentic self finds its sea legs.

Humanism struggles to balance the automated heart with the visceral conscience.

Walking through fear’s river of senses,
The moving moments create waves yearning for tangibility.
Practicing to stop thoughts without falling asleep.
The wind picks up the pen to the page like a brush on a canvas;
transitioning to give meaning to changing landscapes.

Whatever the platform, the eye opens to execute a hard-copy of unmitigated thoughts to the senses.

Sailing on the  paved road,
Signs pass by witnessing
The present moving to a distant past.
Memories intoxicate the imagination
Motivating the idiosyncratic stroke to be in absolute rhythm.
Only afterwards can the soul be reinvented.

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