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Communication
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A Yellow Sunshine Night
In the deepest, darkest parts of me,
where illuminations cannot intrude,
there I seek that inner peace.
The solitude of silence that neither
demands nor insists upon communication.
I can be a book unread.
I can be a cold that does not heat.
Anything is possible.
Everything is plausible.
In the wildest, dangerous mind I have,
I can create the types of illusions
I want to be my mantra.
That public face of laughing man
who wants to be left alone.
But is that true?
I suspect not.
Rather, a silent mind that despairs
it has no purpose as it
gathers through the day.
Sometimes it is better to leave the
impressions of life behind.
Instead, draw a black and white
picture of stick people all
lined up in rows cutting their lawns.
Hear the birds flapping their resistance
over the heads of the
stick men and women.
Aren't we all wearing the same disguise?
Don't we hide the same sins
from one another?
In the deepest, darkest parts of me,
where illuminations cannot intrude,
there I seek that inner peace.
The solitude of silence that neither
demands nor insists upon communication.
I can be a book unread.
I can be a cold that does not heat.
Anything is possible.
Everything is plausible.
