Sometimes words add up.
They cipher; they do the math:
Charting the soul’s GPS,
Revealing the path
To the ancient source
That rinses you clean.
So that you might begin again.
But first, you glance in the rear view
From where you’ve come …
The fresh smiles of the great friends
Who nurtured the journey
that you’d lost hope you’d take.
Laughter keeps time with its heart;
Carefree and yet so true.
Like the shy gypsy’s promise
That helped you get through.
Sometimes the words make sense.
They absorb; they even reflect:
Sorting the moments
Into evidence,
Slipping into the present tense
As if it were a warm pool.
Sometimes they’re just words.
You wish you could say so much more.
What it means. How it feels. What IT is.
It’s not the how, what or when …
Shadow elusive, like trying to define Zen.
But one thought does break clear:
Thank you for reading.
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