So I don't ever edit my poems, I more use my right brain to flow ...
Just a little about me. So if they don't make sense, it's okay, perhaps they aren't meant to.
As I breathe, shifting from standing to sitting, standing to sitting; I choose a place to see and be still, noticing a child of god in from of me. Tossing out words freely to the rhythm of a heart beat. Bom bom. Bom bom. Captivated by the lighting that strikes and shows its power on the microphone, penetrating skin, muscle, bone. Not that type of power that desires for more, but revitalizing like a cold cup of water after running, and running, and running. Stop, to drink in the beauty of being ....being....authentic. Refreshed like a child after seeing a bird fly high in the bright blue sky that is painted ever so delicately by the hands of God. The hands of you, soft, two shades of colors, one blood; uniting me to you and you and I to that bird in the sky. Delicately painted skin, given, gifts that make us who we are.
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