Humans think that just because a cogniscent ray
of volition scattered on an African savanna
that we are barred from the cycles
that all other creatures follow in nature.
I beg to differ. I find myself twisting
and doing the log roll in my
pool of thoughts, emotions and actions.
My surroundings may change and my hope
may grow. I might find myself on a
sail boat where I have an epiphany
because the rocking rythm of the boat
lulled me into an alpha wave meditation
induced by the oceans menstrual motion,
entitling me to a sense of safety.
I am a part of these cycles no matter
how hard I try to negate and position
myself to see the fruits and look for the
differences in my similarities with you.
I vividly recall the way
your eyes penetrated mine as I strolled
effortlessly through the ceiling to
floor glass door.
You took your time to approach me,
casually finding a reason to smoke
and dip in to my conversation.
By the end of the evening,
the pyre was lit but the candles
were out. Fear and excitement boxed
us in to a lid that quickly
extinguished potentials and
spilled wax on my doubtful ego.
I moved on with the pain as I usually do.
This is a cycle that changes
the color of my bruises from red
to purple, to yellow then blue.
Roy G Biv is a good friend of mine.
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