Solitude, the maker

The trees don’t ever forget do they, casting those long shadows and breathing in sun. Lungs for light. The waters are calm and so very treacherous even when the first actionable force spoke to them. Hovered over them. And the we that we are, is electric and light, never forgetting that we too cast shadow and breathe in sun.

And the touch of the leaves, for the wind forces that caress. And the movement in the waves as the ripple is cast. And the cardinal truth wears a cardinal red..that space ray we involved ourselves in, singing forever yours ..

That lonely tree standing out there, One less than two, one more than empty. And that mauled and broken breast, writhing out there, scream less under that moon, and the time that is moving backward as the mind is drenched in the sweat of toil and rejection, the processes of the singular, the strengths of the only. The mild tenderness of the lost now found, the protection of solitude. They will have to do it for themselves. They will need to die again and because all that change is a burial and an insatiable fire, burning the yesterdays and scorching the tomorrows. Singing forever yours .. dancing the eventual moved out an moved on. Singing forever yours..

art credit : With My Tongue in My Cheek, 1959, Marcel Duchamp pencil,paper