It floats;
this singular heartstring,
some sort of flow
following beats upon wind.
There’s a rhythm out there
somewhere
trying to drag me away.
One day I’ll follow.
Sometimes dangling,
sometimes billowing.
You can have nothing to lose
and still lose it all.
You can have everything
and still be desolate.
But to unpack in one place
only leaves a drifter
somewhere in mid-fall...
When I’d much rather be
Sprawled in a field of
Wildflowers, lost in all the ways
The sky can breathe and churn.
I’d much rather be
Wild in patchwork, leather and lace,
Closer to this spirit
That begs to run away
For good.
It’s where I hover;
this doorway where howling gales
could sweep me far from here,
or where I hide behind walls
until they crumble around me
and I’ve nothing left to do
but collect the pieces
into my little red wagon
and keep pulling it along
as far as the road will take me.
Maybe beyond.
This heartstring floats;
drags me along.
These days it seems to be
too far ahead for me to catch up
and there’s no going back.
It keeps its rhythm;
dancing to a beat
I can’t ever find.
Looking for a love
too faded with time.
Maybe it’s just this spirit
Is too tired to keep up
with the thread that’s left
of my dreams.