...there is a stillness of breath as the body
takes its bow/ the ebb and flow of the mind slow to a paced, transcendent flutter/
there engulfs the release of laborious trappings/ those ill-fated workings of
each passing day/ hands, feet, the body unfurl outstretched and open and fall
from the sky/ a simple, daft kite without master or string/
chin pointed upward- palms smiling to the sun/
soft notes of jazz music caress the clouds and mind/ no last, swimming thought
is trapped in the waves/ a sole, soft release and nothing else more/ and
landing between trembling, kind rows of grain/ each tramp finds embers of
silence and grace / the soft birdlike melodies, the whispers of dawn/ echo the
soft steps of the spirit and the changing of its guard.
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