Untitled #2

I woke anew

to the music of the

world surrounding me.

A silent song

that you can’t actually hear,

still it exists.

Do you remember

the old rivers running strong

through the mountains?

How the sun

would paint our necks and

leave us breathless?

Or the moon,

close to full, sending us

into an abandon?

Old Jack hardly

breathing, yet still writing poems

to the world.

Can a life

really be so full that

it doesn’t explode?

Or are we

all lost to the last

rays of sun?

In a moment,

a cackle of birds singing

songs to you.

In the morning,

seeing your reflection, a revelation:

something looking back.

So small, so

simple, it could dissolve at

any moment.

Yet it doesn’t,

it remains, that flicker of

a flame holds

Against a wind

and it whispers something silent

into your ear.

A secret moment

that vanishes in an instant,

but lingers forever.

There’s the sun,

shining onto your street outside,

welcoming the day.