And so it goes…
I write,
delete,
write again,
delete again,
deliberate,
take a break,
return, sit back,
ruminate, postulate,
acclimate, another break,
take a walk,
return,
write,
delete,
sip hot tea,
think woe is me,
but then, somehow, a
pool of light forms in my sight,
and some words begin to breathe…
.
encouraged now
.
I reach up to
the unseen wisdom
to offer me guidance,
waiting to taste
the lasting words (always)
alive with a scent of new rain
.
20,000 ft.
and climbing,
outside, a smear of
water droplets chase
across the window,
I can see,
in each droplet,
a war of turbulence…
.
far below us,
empty plains
and dead grasses
are all that remain of
a once fertile landscape…
.
ask the restless wind
which leaf on the tree
will be next to flee,
and how clear it becomes
that our time here is fleeting…
.
quietly, a Nelumbo
bud opens,
being touched
by warming sunlight,
a brief time of newness…
.
And so life goes…
I write,
delete,
deliberate,
take a break,
return, sit back, sip tea,
and begin to imagine
.
remote green mountains,
where a vague sound of distant flutes
drift within a lingering rain… here,
.
beggars in
shadowy rags seek
to inhale the freshness
of creative zephyrs, where
life is lighter than a cloudless heaven,
and where the soul of imagination lingers
yet, in the scent of all things beautiful….
.
richard lloyd cederberg
1/2020


                                  Between the Cracks - A Monumental Journey Series