Harping to destinations in other dimensions off the charts of human conditions.
Arranging the beauty of every day timing, collating with sensations of imagination.
All in the moment of a morning sunrise.
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Silence stilling my mind, then like magic, I’m writing of things that I’m hearing through songs and rhythms being played by Storm.
Precious moments spent in songs of the sixties.
Everywhere I look – everywhere I see – Mom is looking back at me.
There is no more reason for my being or doing anything.I am my only reason now. It’s lonely. I feel abandoned.Even family can’t fill this emptiness.Will it ever end? Will the pain and sorrow always be this acute?The knowing of her death sears my brain.It awakens me all hours of the night.For no reason I…
Remembering last days of ending sunsets, calmly reiterating their places in my imagination.
Alone, in the spotlight, capturing all the glory and proudly displaying themselves in a poem.