conversational introspection

here, dusting off conclusions made,

with the currency of rapture.

watching my breath as companionable,

willing to take a walk with myself.

and becoming so aware,

that anything I am reading into,

is not coming from any printed words.

wishing that all thoughtful summations

would lead to an emotional embrace.

wanting to slow-dance 

with every next thought.

realizing that silence in the mind

is actually listening for a deeper level.

such that, finding myself utterly amazed,

at the musicality of a single note,

appreciating that the last human touch

from two days ago

is just now leaving,

and that when I look up,

some skies, in passing,

are politely indifferent,

while others are presently endearing.

self conversations provides 

for that kind of awareness,

where the rhythm of this moment

has so much time between each beat.

I feel like, 

that I am the painter's palate of myself,

in the hands that holds me,

where the heat from one hand 

then rises up on to meet me, in the holding,

while the other hand of me,

that comes by, is to take 

from the robust essence of me,

out on to the world,

which hasn't been by in ages.

yet still, I am held 

in this holding pattern of observance.

I am uplifting emotional tonals,

still looking for word wardrobes 

to dress up in, 

as verbiage outgoing. 

there is this feel, 

as if of diamonds in the dark night,

where there is no look-see for luster,

just an awareness intimacy of chiseled stature.

yet fully clear,

that I could give comfort 

to leaves, listlessly on the ground.

they could reminisce 

in the presence of my appreciation.

my eyes on their colorfuls, 

listening to their windswept accounts.

just in a passing glance,

the dog dish seems so solemn in empty.

yet, in my memory,

there was the cool of the food,

meeting the warmth of the breath in chow down.

vacantly wishing 

I had the sketching skills

of a humming bird's flight dexterity,

for things I would do quickly,

in impulsive charcoal abstractions.

and lastly so,

to have want made

into a lessor task of effortless longing.

for I have come to appreciate this introspection,

as my form of conversational intimacy,

in my inner dialogue, 

passing . . .