Drifters
there is no motive here
it is just like flying not even for the love of air
i have no wish for wings
neither do i have a feather
i fly on the invisible wings of my thoughts
drifting for the sake of nothing but just drifting
because i am drifting and i do not stop it
it could be that it is locating a drift
a shore of the winds, an island of gusts,
it is following a river of memories
memories are drifters too
and so are all the rest of these hanging wishes
uncertainties like molecules making a room for
their unseen randomness, the chaos that we never see
because we are attuned to order
to the stillness of wood and panel
picture a bowl of fruits
the mind has painted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
