In the middle of creating and consuming
Stood I
An afternoon colluding for glorious use of time
Lost among stacks
Hot sun beating upon my sweater'd back
The artifacts ran through me
Alive they came
senses awakening
The dust off lithographs
First editions
Copies of Playboy from 1975
A flip clock set at 4:20
Time stopped and yet I was flying
Flung into eras, lives, fake, real, felt,
stolen glimpses at god
stolen glimpses at god
Soon the words hit a wall
My eyes turned sore
Standing, a chore
In the air
A record played,
A record played,
With the right song
turned on
At first a tear
At first a tear
Heavy loneliness
Solitude of exploration
Confronting the reality of this journey
bittersweetly beautiful
bittersweetly beautiful
pausing to glimpse others' experience
For a moment, sharing my solitude
With yet more mute partners
My mind keeps bringing me the thought of ice cream,
a cool shady knoll
A book and leaving this nice store.
So off I go
But before I dive into pleasure and respite,
Soften my eyes to the inner night
The inner light
I'll drop a pin on this time
Of drifting into death
To spark it with my life
Though ink and digital pages remain as set
There's a timelessness to the exploration
Eventual appreciation
It does not wait for me
It does not know of me
It is as if my inner compass
Had been waiting
All this time
For me to drive by and turn my head
See the sign,
pointing,
painted
pointing,
painted
In my language, in black and red
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