These two left feet of mine,
they get me places.
Neither in grace nor style,
but I end up wherever I must,
mostly on time.
I’m well-aware
of how I happen to be
positioned,
I feel each fluctuation.
With the gyroscopes in
my ears, I remain
level-headed
no matter how I crane
my neck.
Featherless biped,
I pole vault with each pace,
leap and bound;
not enough drag to stop me,
not enough lift to send me
soaring.
Maybe,
if I push a little harder,
I’ll get somewhere.
Watch closely,
as I fall apart at the seams.
Every crease
giving way,
every fiber of my being
unwound.
For now
I am the dust at your feet,
the gust of wind
that tosses your hair,
the sunlight
on your shoulders —
I am boundless,
the open sky,
the ether.
A crash of lightning
announcing itself one moment,
and gone without a trace
the next.
Listen carefully,
the thunder tells all,
from a roar to a murmur
the sky shutters,
the air reverberates.
Like the rainclouds,
I wander in circles,
I’ll change my shape
and return another day.
———————————-
✍🏻 Follow me here ! ✍🏻
Instagram: @thefilepile
Facebook: The File Pile
Beware of any oasis,
because nowhere in this world of oddities,
will you cross the same river twice.
Try, try, try, as you might,
leaning into the current,
cannot bring you to the past-
grasping for the rain drops,
will not help you
stand steady and weather a storm.
No matter how torn,
you may feel,
there are times you must leave it all behind,
you’ll know it when you see it.
But so be it,
and fear not,
you never have to leave green pastures,
if you can bring them with you,
in tempests and torrents,
deserts, meadows, canyons, summits.
So long as you’re still going,
you are always exactly
where you need to be.
If you’re a fish out of water,
I really hope you’re a mudskipper.
If I could bottle that feeling
You get when you hear a great song,
Or receive some friendly words,
Or find a five dollar bill-
That one that makes you gasp sometimes,
That one that gives you goosebumps,
That one that makes you blush and jump for joy-
Then I’d have to resolve myself,
With the simple truth,
That I could never get enough.
Selfish is the radiance-hoarder,
Unbounded bouncing element resonates,
Through the sphere of the sunshine recorder,
Upon its crux the particle detonates.
Lucid luminescence has primal appeal,
In a world of constant flux,
Like an old zoetrope, spinning like a pinwheel,
Unfettered, unfocused, a coliseum of lux.
A balance must be struck between the two reciprocals,
A cavalcade of color that leaves an impression,
A spectral speckle spectacle; a rainbow flicker-festival,
A kaleidoscope held up to your eye for another session.
The File Pile 