When I finally found myself I was
old. Older than the moon when she lost
her mythology, unclothed by day
and science, investigator of the dream,
awoken by hard reason in an open casket.
When I did, I was aware I squatted where I least
expected to be. I lived, I found, in a very small shell,
cast off by some creature none too humble
for a home so cramped it could not live
life to the fullest plume so furled.
When I studied such a bold rise, I moved my head
to a new place on my body, no longer musing
from some station on top, but from a place
more comforting for being silk pulsed and softer edged,
and staring only sideways always in that daze.
Sometime soon now, I believe, I will simply
move again, to a smaller home where I will be tight
with less lightness, lost tales, with no more odd minding
at my sight pointing neither forward
nor back, but in the moment, at that single second.
* * * * *
Today’s word is
Use move in a piece of writing or to trigger a piece of writing, and then post it as a comment below. I’d love to read what you write : ) Happy Aloha Friday.