Trees that line the street as the winter breeze blows
through their nakedness and moves along without looking back
A few old leaves caught in a corner there until winds shift
and a quiet empty sense of nothingness and nothing to grasp
A solemness deep inside and clouds hang as silhouettes
lit by the light of the moon in the nights sky
A dream a remembrance though vague comes to mind
as if just passing on its walk as it meanders on by
A twinkle from a star a street light trying to show a way
the sounds being heard someplace far away
The eyes see beyond what can be seen and the ears hear more
than there is a gentle silence eerie but okay
Within its capsulation a sense of being alone
one amongst present and what had come before
To think what may be ahead the thoughts of an infinite set
and what may be or what is in store
A subtle nudge a whisper that you may have heard
the touch you may have felt and a chance turn around
Things that have been forgotten or left behind
those that have been lost when actually already found
Not a parable or a story or a confusion within a paradox
or a challenge to be conquered
A clarity that appears as nothing and is what it is not
anything more or less and no longer blurred
It’s that most minute moment that may not be held onto
or saved for another place or time
Rather a brilliance grasped just for you
where all the parts fit together just right
A continuation