I accept exactly what I expect
of the day. the day expects nothing from me
except awareness that I am me
and day is day
that is as it should be.

The combination is often in the color white
sometimes blue
but can be in the color red/grey/black

It seems everywhere comprises of nothing
and nothing is everywhere
I know there is no name or color
to the invisible

or any feeling left in language
that holds perfect expression
only passing echoes that clamour to be heard
bear hope in hopelessness

wander wastelands
wearing tattered whispers, blind-eyed
like childen playing 'blind man's bluff'
believe 'all things bright and beautiful'

and can use the language of the dove
to describe the roar of a lion
in dimesions that need no meaning
have an inbuilt meaning of their own

as leaves fall quiet on winter's approach
as rosy apples ring the rule of summer
need no explanation as to what incites
the motion

or spins a day as day.
*
*