we are * 7/22/14

We are sitting here and destined,      

riding on the chance bus of life.

We are wardrobes of causes, bound for where?

Inordinately rich, in the commons of ritual,

our bodies, free to be teachers, confessors, 

canaries, messengers of our final fragrance and ash.

We are creating posture and poise,

out of our natural movement.

Speech, as our homing pigeons,       

is let out to return as recognizable sound.

Massaged by the dawn-blush and the dusk-glow,

we are living barometers,      

capturing the embrace and the crush

of atmospheres and circumstances surrounding us.

We are children, playing sunlight's Simon says,

as part of the care and the cruel

that humans play and prey amongst each other.

We are all poker players,

dealing hydrogen and oxygen breath-cards,

bidding hands worldwide.      

We are here from beyond time

but are passing time quite simply

as the time of the day . . .