the world we can see . looking through frosted windows . seems almost perfect
it isn’t having . too little, it’s not sharing . when we have too much
it might be shocking . to see the actual face . of our inner voice
a fresh fallen snow . will gather on surfaces . we’ve never noticed
the calendar page . has turned, bringing with it change . only we can make
simply walking . requires stepping carefully . in a winter fog
time and space contract . to what is right here, right now . when the fog rolls in
sometimes the answer . is hidden in a story . we cannot quite read
some places seem stuck . as if they are waiting for . something to happen
when done correctly . searching for answers leads to . asking more questions
uptown jack 