The Fleeting Canvas

While some record the imprint of history
Gathering impressions in weekly tallies
Others move forward without regret
The swinging doors closing behind them

Waiting chambers of yore become empty nests
Lines drawn with one stroke, resolute, with no makeovers
Passing murmurs, and no time for contemplation
The flowing streams wash over rough stones

Passengers in a season of migration
Pursuing the elusive gifts of time
Glimmers, flashes of the treasures of fate
Prospecting for liberation in the river bed

A glimpse of self with its fractured reflection
Instant love, living in the moment
A prelude to adoration and devotion
Swaying, rustling curves in motion

Recapturing sensations that once left you breathless
Luxuriating in the waning passions of seasoned flesh
To slow down, abide, and truly savor change
And in the aftermath, pause fitfully for reflection

Did you ever feel butterflies in your heart?
The lightness of the sensation, susurration
A whisper is ephemeral but love is lasting
And bold. To know its pathways. Recognition

Tracing patterns of exchange in coarse sand
The transient glow of bite-sized triumphs
Putting aside the slights and misunderstandings
A wave washes over the pebble beach

From silvery gray to deep black, gradations
Control measures, to master the brush stroke
Love again, weighed against disposable feelings
Love. The texture of a life, the fleeting canvas

Liquid Soul, a playlist

A soundtrack for this grace note. Three hours of langourous, elliptical soul. Dissolve in the grooves, let them wash over you. (spotify version)

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time.

File under: sensory, culture, observation, perception, Buyer's Remorse, emotion, lyricism, life, love, covidious, poetry, toli

Writing log: April 9, 2022