A journey starts in several ways; mostly, with a beginning.
Steps falter then walk, small sounds evolve ways of holding hands,
arms, head face-up towards lightness.
Mondays prepare the week to become undone; usually forgotten by Tuesday,
let me speak to you of days when I was lost, the wilderness blew and the paper in my book was torn.
I wish for you to mark my pages, where the psalms present and precipitate a time
for knowledge and growth. You are not only the teacher but student,
not only the water but dried flowers waiting for rain. In this, you are known to me.
I strive to unclothe the moon and stars
speak to you of the brightside. As the calendar is marked by thoughts and deeds.
Today, we talked of change, the need for expression and how to write plumes in mid-air.
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
very very well written. good luck.
