Have you

Have ever wondered what hides between the light?

Or what thinks the same of us?

Give any chaotic cacophony a moment’s doubt and you might just find melodies swept away by starlight; once we accept that there are no colors except all but the one discarded we can find beauty even in darkness.

Have you ever wondered what beauty sounds like to silence?

Have you ever wondered what eternity smells like?

Of course not. You’re still a child.

To you, these questions are as simple as breathing.

To you, wonder is not a question but an answer.

(dtn)

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Flights of rebellion

I dreamt you were born
++a full-grown raven,
your break sculpted
++from pointed disdain
like that movie
++we always felt was fantasy,
but the doctor checked
++your fragile wings
without so much
++a scent of surprise,
only quick glances
++of disgust my way.
It took me years
++to rub down your kisses
from needle to nub
++to trust to humor,
but I woke filled
++with your smiling face
and a handful of
++ancient black feathers
I value more than
++you could ever know.

(dtn)

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Birds of a feather

A collection of feathers caught on wayward breezes no more makes a bird than memory a soul, but secrets can still be discovered; color and texture fade more slowly than fear and laughter, but both paint a vivid picture of the past. Flights of fancy trace back to ambition and doubt, even if your feet never leave the ground. Who’s to say wing and wit are not one and the same? Both can be broken, and both a means of escape with no more thought than thought. And when the weight of the world comes bearing down like a blanket of night without warning, it isn’t just the birds who cease their song until the light of morning breaks through once more.

(dtn)

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Her

She slips through thought
like the tongues of flames,
fragrant memories of smoke
clinging to the walls,
and we’ve yet to name her.
Spring’s first blossoms?
Flower petals crafted in stone?
I can’t seem to shake the thought,
like clouds on the horizon;
there’s time yet before they come,
but I’ve outlined the shadows
and puddles below our feet.
And now we wait.

(dtn)

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Lost and found

Gullible fingertips
Ungrateful grace
Tearful tribulations
Regrettably reasonable
I’ve forgotten myself
Time and time again
A mirror’s mileage
A drowning suspicion
Shadows fading
Or is it the light?
Either way, undone
Left behind
Compressed
Consumed
And me with it
Until your smile
Until your shine
And me with it

(dtn)

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There’s still time

Where’d that scab come from?
Who were you yesterday?
Who will you be tomorrow?
Where’d that scab go, by the way?
No, the other one. The darker one.
It’s barely even a scar now.
Barely worth remembering.
++Time makes us become
++not only what we weren’t
++but what we never can be again.
And yet still we run on
Toward the next blooding,
Toward more forgotten sunrises,
Toward more scrapes and bruises
We’ll leave to time to heal.

(dtn)

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Answer me

Someday we’ll know
Who taught the sun to burn so bright
Who drew the moon so deceitful
++yet full of sorrow
How long can forever be
Can we ever run out of tears
Which watershed moments
++brought us here
What would have been if only
++we could have done
Hopefully by then
++we’ll have forgotten
++the question

(dtn)

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