I think there is too much to do, too much to say, until the empty days.
Empty vision for the future.
As far as the eyes can see, it lies empty.
Like empty stretches of wilderness.
But, I see beauty in the lonely spaces.
Potent presence preserved in every pebbly step and stalk of wind-blown grass.
At long last! Freedom.
Freedom from constraints and aims and busy windowpanes,
piled high atop each another until the floors can only be obtained
by a fast ride in a small box.
I’ll take the rocks and breeze and humming bees.
The quiet, the soft, the slow: what I know.
The words that wrestle with my soul and take a pleasant toll on my mind.
And in the slow, I grow.
(Originally published on my old blog, Interim Arts, on May 10, 2013)