point of view

as dawn arises

the curtain is going up.

all of the quiet gives way

to a readiness approaching.

there is vibratory resonance 

in the air of every breath.

animation is awaken from slumber.

a thousand eyes of tasks, chores and journeys

abound, near by.

the weave of the day

comes out from the fiber of my being.

I am enlisted and enrolled and encouraged.

the canvass is silent 

but sassy and emergent.

dreams hold on to their incessancy to whisper.

I have a mind's eye that rarely blinks

in its vigilance .

sleep had its sweet privacy, for then,

but the curtain of light upon the sky has risen

and movement becomes a mandate.

motion so knows the lyrics

and my senses hum the song,

as each melody has its private and personal calling.

the stage and the audience uniquely share

in the same space.

I feel like we are all migratory creatures

that rest, regain and restore in the night.

and then travel the day as longing.

and in our version, space is not distance

but occupancy as the fluid journey.

we are all riding on a sensory sea,

hoping for a strong wind

of desire or passion for us to take flight.

wanting our days to be of effortless flight,

rather than the bob, the weave, and the float.

wanting my days to be 

of distant sights, albatross ancestry, 

and the wisdom from the curvature of earth.

I don't want or need the emotional flossing

from the grind-lock of traffic,

or the butler-service 

from clock-faces or cell phones.

and I do want familiarity 

to be just a point of view

rather than where I land . . .