Most of what I hear – are my own thoughts
As they softly ride the edges – of what comes
So quick to credit others – for their timbres and their beats
As I jam along beside them – in a generous communion
To find – when the hypnosis lifts – that I’ve missed
everything
– What they said what not what I heard at all –
My argument never moved them from their tempo –
My sanctifying notes – never noticed in the din.
How strange then – how the world moves on
As if each forgotten hum – was pulled to some
Safe center where – it was shared – and understood
– And we are born again each moment – in the hope
That this new merging with the heart will fill – its moments
– And another will come soon enough – so that –
Eventually – after all the mergings – all the moments –
It will feel like you were never alone at all.
