Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Tuesday



It was not sleep; we knew what sleep was.
It was not rest; we saw no rejuvenation.
It was a sudden drifting, a slight flutter of air
that means blink now.
No longer obeying commands, we felt that shift
from then to now.
Your light floated upward--
we strained to see the flight
from one world to another.
Our eyes lost that shape--
we saw no more, but
we knew that now
you were speaking to them and
no longer speaking to us.

1 comment:

pomedome said...

They who are not we. Or maybe they were.
Very deep. I need sleep now. Thank you, Thank you. -JM