passing through


“honey, its in the stars,”
I had fallen for a wandering gypsy mentor
Drawn to a mystical wisdom
by a rhythm beating louder than his own heart
To the next thing that seemed like a promising omen

And if its any consolation
We will both be wandering
In service of self born artists
or broken instruments of spirit’s song
Dancing and being danced
Equally Miserable and mystified by the grand scale
of give and take

and if our egos (on their lunch breaks)
might let us once again play
like children in that open field
free from specu-la-tion
a long day’s breath
under the sun

it might just be so entertaining
That the big tree we swing in
Will shelter us through the night
Letting us curl together
Rocked gently under the moaning moon

I don’t have to be for you
And you don’t have to be for me
We are just forever
Passing through
Laughing and throwing our arms up to
What we can never hold onto

Giving and grieving the beauty
that moves us to be free

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