wisdom is gathered . and waits to be recognized . with quiet patience
even sitting still . the idea of motion . is everywhere
wishing it to be . runs into reality . as the ice rink melts
when something happens . maybe it is a surprise . but it still happened
vibrations in time . echo the space we live in . synching here to now
what we encounter . is never the whole story . just pieces we’re shown
something once vital . erased by change, leaves behind . anonymous clues
there is a purpose . in every lost item . that goes unfulfilled
in the same candle . one flame feels the air moving . the other is still
on some days, the blinds . are rolled open just enough . to let the light in
uptown jack 