Cup of Tea

If I was flawless

Would it be easier?

Easier than to have to deal with the day to day bumps?

The grit.  Seeing beyond the fingerprints and the cracks.

Or harder.

No comparison of the smoothness of your handle

To the fact that my edge is chipped

No salving the wound of the scratch that might be lurking

With the fragments of the gash running across me

I’m not sure.

I can keep on

Buffing, polishing, gluing

I’ll never get there

And maybe I’ll be close enough

And still far enough

That you will set yourself upon me

The Spiders' Waltz

The Spiders' Waltz

A pair of them

Five not eight

Living on 88
Chasing passion and perfection

Tones and time

Crawling up and down

Over and under

Racing, tumbling

Nearly tripping leg over leg

Then still, frozen

but for the slightest tremor

Suddenly, they leap

Landing lightly before they are off again

From corner to corner

Making angles, creating patterns

Weaving intricacies of color from black and white

Now the leaps have become insistent

Aggressive in their pursuit

Determined to extract the cries of their prey

After their conquest

They creep back

Slowly

Quietly

Leg over leg

A final sprawling stretch

Then stillness.

The fading light dancing

In the gossamer strands

Of their creation.

Winter

WINTER

Tunneling through

the cold biting

stinging

numbing

the grey

is endless

heavy and wet

yet trudging on

Digging out

bit by icy bit

a race against

the tiredness

the paralyzing cold

Can the end be seen

no, it is still

white out 

The Chase

Through the meadow in the night

I creep, cautiously testing for

The errant leaf, the careless twig

Eschewing the well-trodden path

In pursuit of…

Achieving calluses, I think wryly

Though I know that isn’t my aim

It is out here, amid the darkness that I come

To find the flickers

To chase the embers

That are so tantalizingly near

Beckoning like a siren’s song

The journey is a myriad of emotions

This pursuit- my internal odyssey

And if I attain my desires- what then

Will there be nirvana- eternal nothingness?

Will I be consumed- like Icarus?

Or will it be an endless labyrinth

With the end only being the beginning

It isn’t clear, however,

My feet do not falter, save

On those stray rocks and twigs

The chase is what consumes me. 

Lead and follow

Dancing

Interchange

Give and take

Lead and follow

And follow and lead

Float and sway

Body and spirit

Rhythm and movement

Independent, together

One but two

But one but more

A room full

Weaving in and out

Life on display

Microcosm