These Passing Moments
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Into the oceans eye of weather storm, my thoughts drown,
stumbling each, upon each other’s trailing synapse falling;
and I admit occasional trip to somehow set them down;
a forceful fitful leisure unbeknown.
A silent sound at times to overwhelm and sit beside me
in this madness moment, baffled.
Stuffed and stuffing to overflow my good neighbors air
portioning me a couplet or two to share.
And I shall drink til drunk and think til thunk
and when tis done will mortify no more.
The blasphemed eye removed to backward stare
as I shall know my counterpart with part of every hair.
For I am the mirror of my soul and the countenance contained
in every star; beads of every slow collected jar.
The stones upon the shore all bear my name.
I am the air between each tongue of flame
and I am the flame between each draft of air.
I feel such grounded freedom as my soul alights to soar.
See with inward eye the knowing pearl to pour
Outward stretch my own return.
No boundaries must I learn.
For every tear the ocean’s cry, I think to pause
for do we not in all our wonder,
All our haste and pristine beauty;
Seek outward all effect with inward cause.
I kiss the tears the ocean cries to salt the wounds
of my goodbyes and hesitate to breathe one breath
for all the singled glories passing, as do I, in death.
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2020
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