Blank documents/ in retrospect alight the nascent day sun cresting the horizon meteor showers/ salted debris black canvas/ infinite twitches flicker against the night the mind creates a fortress/ to ground the body to a meaning/ a purpose to greet each day— as the turning of lathe to leg on wooden post. Would the Creator grumble if broken? Of course you ask the obvious not mistaken for frivolity— you jester a crooked smile then proceed with caution.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
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