Always a Face
A face seeks me in the trees.
In the trees it comes and goes
with the passing of light and night.
Leaves random, semblance discernible,
The One And The Many
revealed, concealed.
A face seeks me in the clouds.
In the clouds it forms and disintegrates
with ever-changing whims of the sky.
Winds moist, waters blown,
composed for barely a moment,
then gone, forever.
A face seeks me in the smudges.
In the smudges it waits for acceptance
flirting with the unsuspecting eye.
Completion dried, indelibly adequate,
the fixture, fortuitous, unknown,
whispers 'I am here'.
There is always a face.
22nd June 2000
Copyright © Lawrence Sharp | Year Posted 2018
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