Delectable sounds, training their images onto screens of mind-boggling lectures, never-ending comments from artistic galleries in the raw.
Neglecting visions of early morning light, dictating an energizing fortitude, hoping for strength of character to begin again.
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Living an existence without hope,
belonging to no one and hangingonto empty promises.There’s no one in sight, no auras,no visions, just many memories ofabandonment through the years.Lasting despair fed through thedeep sadness, set interiorly allof life, a never-ending source ofgrief and tears.Yet, the abyss is where I hang outand continually write from it’slonely pits.When there, all of life is blackenedby…
Shaking voice, singing through her heart’s love of music.
Singing out with a vibrant joy, allowing her to state notes in a melodic composition.A truly gifted woman, getting on in years with a voice, golden to God’s ears.
Deftly turning into recesses of the deepest interior.
Soul-turning sorrow wrenching apart the little bit of love left over from a broken friendship.Delaying the inevitable, trying desperately to fold in upon itself.Hiding inside could get rid of the pain and doubt – if only it could be done!Lying open, bleeding, turning cold as ice – left for dead before the evening begins.Turning over…
Pulling curtains from my mind, watching life live
Holding safely, all endeavors, including videosof entire lifetimes, being kept hidden from viewuntil they’re shown in forms of words and set inpoetry.Organs of beauty play their music harpily, gently,into scores of etudes for operettas stashed incomplacent neurons and synapses, awaiting theirdiscoveries on later dates.
Watching children in my mind, seeing their images traveling forward in time to the present.
Images jumping, shouting, laughing, running – looking at them now, I see myself at play when I was younger and had no worries, because my parents did all the worrying for me back then.