Weak & Many Worlds
Two poems for the price of one. Catching up slowly.
Weak
As spidered purples dot the sky when the sun journeys west.
As a meadow of blooming flowers gives off a quiet, colorful zest.
As breezes pass before full sails while waters lightly crest.
As am I. Without question or regard for the rest.
Many Worlds
Perhaps there is a dimension
where I draw with practiced lines.
Minds eye clearly translated
into images on a page.
Or maybe
body shapes tell stories.
Or where
words paint shapes into thoughts.
Where
spreadsheet gymnastics commune with souls.
Or
heart surgeries
Or
chess prowess
Or
engineered works
Or
a severe look conjures a laugh and talks a drum.
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