My Journey
I’ve been learning to flex my intuition
To incubate (incubare, incubo)
And listen for what I’m trying to say.
The depths of the unconscious are elegant and ravaged,
Full of lightning strikes and movie stills.
Further in, further up.
What does it matter who I am?
I am a screen that filters your life,
disseminating the light, casting
shadows on your ground.
I am a conduit to many places, many memories
Belonging to one or all I cannot tell.
I am a witness to the silent spaces
Spanning time in its entirety,
Like a star one day collapsing on itself
Holy or unholy, yet wholly whole
Pitter patter in the quiet room
Little feet? Or a heart beat
The sound makes my ears perk
And brain tingle
A soft rhythm with
My thoughts intermingled
With childlike joy
It commands my attention
A subtle reminder
Of dreams often mentioned
But nestled away in
A corner of my mind
Where a certain intrepid traveler
Might come to find
That I had encountered
This sound from the future
Many a time
But with one missing feature:
A laugh and a voice
That suggest only you
Joining me in the search
For one small wayward shoe