"The door, the color of the twilight, opens"
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Whatever That May Be Today
I
Now enter the familiar,
working its magic song in the upper part of life.
the passageway time –
II
When I was falling upwards,
There, but then
The order of business came,
Pass not around the ring
III
It was your destiny
The slinking strings will not let me
lush with chanting children heads,
with the sanity of the guitar,
and the hope of the violin,
Maybe it's the familiar draining away, the sound
of a trusted friend not heard from
for so long I am unwilling
to quit this journey. It is shifting twilight –
the entrance time. The door, the color of the twilight, opens
at the horizon with twilight shallow steps that lead
to a brief passage which speaks of what is now
and moves in that direction.
I am the color of smiling sand sprinkled in the seams.
we drew straws--
you lost as if you'd been
listening between two fires.
uploaded and empty handed,
it was a matter of time
before you cornered in the shadow.
offering all that these times
allow, which was more
than time itself.
but through it, softly and
towards the sun.
to save me. You broke my feet
and breathed over me
with your turned r's.
Fly on green wings
and feel the unknown
before it all fades to tan.
hear you when you call to me.
For when you are lost,
I am found. I've nicked a vein
and smile to smell the blood
and know that I am nearly you.
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