Brick by brick

There is more good than bad, though it doesn’t always feel that way.  My heart stops like a watch submerged at its ten year mark.  I think I splurged in purchasing sway, but somehow missed the lesson on which bills to ear mark.  I wish you the stillness of heart like a Montana frost, but with the warmth of a summer day at the lake.  Into whichever river you are tossed, I hope you bend and make.  I remember the Buffalo park outside Denver, and Gas Works park in Seattle.  I remember crossing the plains, with no sleep but pains, imprisoned.  What is you in for? Who do you have to battle?  I hear the rattle, and I feel the beat.  Longing for a compatible paddle, to sail amidst these streets.   I love the poet within you, as you win from within.  And its in the best interest of all who are fighters to keep their chins down and in, but with their eyes on the prize.  I see the character unbroken, though the physical body may be fettered a bit. I see the heart of a lion, and a will that won’t quit.  These dreams we have unspoken, push into waking day, and the things we have to choke on, will soon be making way.  The site of future walks remains unwritten, and may only be written along the way.  And whether you are completely smitten, or just planning on hitting the skins in a minute, will make all the difference in inference and perception of the way.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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