Our souls have resonance,
Having met before in line,
Waiting to be born in this world,
A constant hum, and a constant mess,
But less is more and more is less.

This connection is beyond limiting words,
Beyond condescending stares from onlookers,
Beyond before and after,
Outside of time itself,
Running across time like a kid’s first bike ride
Through deep mud puddles.
It moves.
We smile.
We laugh, and slightly edge out the self that may have achieved pole
This resonance is palpable,
Inexplicable, pure, simple,
Anachronistic, atavistic,
Hyperbolic, and a noir flic
Mixed with Terry’s
Cinematography, and a hit or two
Of something nice.

Paddle the canal,
Take the hill,
Mow the field,
Irrigate the pasture,
Oil the bearings,
Hand out trick or treat candies,
And remember,
That auld acquaintance may be forgot
But soul ties bind
And the Great Spirit knows what it is doing.
I can feel it in my bones.


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