Pangaea's Box Of Wandering Wishes

Drift my world in salt-sprayed wilderness,

continents splitting soul,
gliding space in rafted islands,

her shipwrecked mountains,

etching evolution,
for what is life
inside a snow globe,
spun by artist, awakening poetry.


Rise my orange
to peel in sections,
seven seas, blushing bubbles,

encapsulated time of creative interpretation,

where weather willed her distant desert
to bloom unnoticed,
embracing color's painted prism.


And life did rain,

crystal laughter, in linguistic aspirations,
thunder pounding plain,
with prophets
swinging tail to savannah's sails
in prehistoric pools of plenty,
shedding scales,

raising dust in meteor showers
of invading asteroids,
and mutation's surprises,
waiting for a song to link in language.


Here we are, singing innovations,

manifestations of every idea
formed in misty, gathered inspiration
from Pangaea’s box of wandering wishes,

that in our floating bits of earth,

we might come to notice nuance,

in eyes that see
a distance touch

smelling of sea,

and the taste of salt
pounding shore,

with ancient sounds, of kindred countenance.