And Then I Walk

A pendulum swings
bisecting my being
not vertically as expected,
which would allow disparate halves to swirl,
spinning into spirit:
a rainbow sparkle.

But instead
it slices air above my calves
and though it never touches
I am unable to move.

It begs
my apology
for the intertwining droves
that I summon
with my life.

It begs
my continued yearning
and unceasing devotion.

It begs
my complacency.

And so it swings.

And then I wake.

And then I walk.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s