A doorway falls apart
Shadows puddle round my toes
and your life just misses mine…
where you will find:
My crevasse of caring heart
My savored glance
My mistletoe kisses
My allowing thoughts
Now it seems I rely on passionless fruit
That still gives up some tang.
My time sweeps me up into fractions
And a string of theories that echo ‘last call for all that is’ Lays its life in front of me.
The road less traveled may have no pot holes
But it’s not smooth either,
It’s just a road less traveled;
Allowing for the wavering pilgrim
Looking for that sweet spot called home to appear.
Cause when we come home
Dinner stays warm in the oven;
A riotous stew wafting a sumptuous
Where one feels surefooted and free.
And true too for the late comers
Where the stew has simmered so long
It tastes all the sweeter.
But we’ve come home friends, All of us!
We serve up a heap of the life we’ve been creating all along
A stew of goodness, no less
We can count on it.
– Linaji 2016