Oblivious collisions

The ancient eavesdropper

Calm, tranquil solace
grinds the hours into pumice.
Sifting down in dry cascades of sand
rests my weary bones, head forgotten.
Dreams, desires, wishes vanish
into the vastness of air’s nuances.
Clouds creep across my vision,
whites of my eyes meeting them
dead on in oblivious collisions.
Aches and pains are vague perceptions
apart from a cluttered mind,
now a kite cut free of tension,
five senses float, wispy ribbons grace
their placid mast, castaway boat with no pace
or trace of where they crossed paths —
to land or sea or in between,
air, water, earth inseparable textures.
As if to breathe in blindly the elixir
and drown out the roaring thunder,
I blankly wonder what my head
is connected to if not my shoulders.
Something bigger than I has grounded me.
I feel the rest that minutia forgets
before the storm’s passing.

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About tyler4turtles

I am an avid photographer, poet, ecologist, bookworm, blogger, art enthusiast and runner who calls Montana home but lives in Oregon.
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