Looking out into the night time forest, I can see nothing but dark between the trees.
Up above – through the tree branches, the moon smilingly hides for a while.
His perfectly round face a reminder of an oreo cookie – the white stuff inside.
Stars twinkled and giggled and slid across the skies.
Contentedly peaceful, I sighed deep inside and continued to think by the fireside.
Tears sitting silently in the chapel of my soul,wanting to be expressed in enlightened words of apoem.
displaying dwarf palm trees,rocks and dirt.Landscapes being viewed by a poet,watching as they live again inpoems of a mind.
Posing at the peak, waiting for everyone to catch up.Dancing, lights flashing, not slowing down for anything.Portions of night time edges, tugging at the stars,pulling them closer so they can be seen by all who arelooking upward.
Juxtapositionally figuring out how they can find the most favorable formulas to co-exist in an area of the brain reserved for imagination.
It takes many books and a lot of curiosity to fill that definition, unless you are born with an innate talent for it.Even so, to keep the title, you need to go through life, expanding imagination to grow into knowledge
Settling in amongst ashes of yesterday, locating fragments of bone, shards here and there, of hope lingering slightly behind a faith of knowingness within a soul.
