20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Prophecy

In the dawning of time
man was no speck of dust,
not even a glimmer in Divine’s eye,
until life was breathed into light
and awareness into cellular dust,
fledgling gods dispatched to distant worlds
to wear foreign masks,
engage in sacrilegious battles
for wholeness and peace,
to conquer universes,
to love and give,
receive and forgive,
wage wars with self
and tear down walls of difference ,
fuel the sting of creation sorrow,
create that which is loved most,
send it soaring into freedom,
not knowing how or when it may return,
to fulfill the fate of immortal time

©SpiritLed


Shiny Things

The newness wore off
like an old penny you put
in your pocket and forgot
about, chasing the next
shiny thing.  You didn’t
mean to lose interest, but
there was so much to see and do,
how could you be expected
to stay in one place, to hold
this moment in your gaze for
any longer than you did?  The time
you had was long enough,
enough to create beautiful
moments, explore cities and
beaches, soak up the excitement
and agony of being alive, until
you weren’t, until the plane
on which you flew was no longer
part of the world the rest of us
call home, and the shiny things no
longer distracted you, for
everything was glimmering and
whole, like you

©SpiritLed 2014


3 Comments

Thoughts About the Moon

It must be lonely to be the moon
is what I’m thinking,
while I watch her, smearing
the windowpane with prints.
No one is holding her.  The night
is cold.  The sun eludes,
doesn’t anchor, watches over,
gives her light to read by,
and shows her, more
or less, what she is.
What she is
appears to be
a free and wild thing,
drawn to us by
gravity and poetry,
and nourished by the sun
until she is whole again.
I take it back.
Doesn’t sound lonely at all.

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