White Mud

One’s conscience
Knows little discretion
While escaping oppressive ideologies
Flawed
Confused
Fear-driven
Spirit-driven
Still blood-hungry
Visceral drives

Some

Awaken
As oozing threat
Creates
Justification enough

Others

Like Wile E. Coyote
Need hardened concrete
Rendered to the head
Even if only
To see cartoon birds
Scrambled musical notes

A few

Recognize air’s disturbance
Space threatened by
The gathering energy
Boding well for
Seeing
Hearing
Feeling
Beyond the obvious

But for the non-expectant

Ebb and tide of patience
Emerges from the sea
As a winged lion
Roaring
Swirling
Through mist
Echoing its imagination
Enjoining
Indubitable pasts
Omni-present nows
Undefined futures
With
Fractal voicing

Having finally arrived
The sublime
Awakens
The many
Shapes
Forms
Colors
Words
Releasing
Creativity’s ever embracing
Yin and Yang
Space-time’s perpetual offering
Sadly accepting
Those hearts and minds absent color
Who
Realize not
Scintillating
Effervescent
Rainbow-rich
Life
Is there
For the making

Tomorrow
There will be
Further ebbs and flows
Perhaps diminishing
The
White Mud