by LJ Frank

Conscious and subconscious images pass through the cells and nerve endings of my brain, with fleeting forms, quiet in moments, pausing in others, with a fond remembrance like a view of wildflowers on the roadside, and all is hued through the smoky haze of mental photographs that are sporadically filtered and affected by the discord in the street and tainted by the bought and paid for conscience, while the real price is hidden in the face of the questioning old man. Where is the laughter?

Being humane pleads for a chair at the dinner table of humankind, the wine of communion and the want of being empowered – intent is on a precarious footing and mission, insertions from the travail of ambiguity, turning a cheek towards those with selfish motives…the soul is comprised of water and blood…and the child of a lesser God is alone within their thoughts…and the spirit asks why. 

To indulge in dreams and fantasies are an occasional preference; to offset and surmount the given situation…to find some pleasure in that which exists in front of the eyes while knowing that this may be all there is…and to acknowledge that existence occurs in a blink of the eye. My heart wants cheer.

I wander alone in a garden of thoughts and desires, walking on a hillside overlooking the blue-green sea filled with diversity and with a nearby field of bending sunflowers brightening the rainy day; creating an abstract expressionist work of art – reality is soaked with perception.

The morning chill of an autumn’s presence is interspersed with honking geese flying overhead bidding their greetings in a formation, while a breeze catches the scent of towering evergreens with pine needles covering the ground beneath, and a chipmunk savors berries and seeds in its cheek pouch as if knowing we are different species – sharing the same planet.

I hear a whisper from my past with pictures appearing within my subconscious floating in the air longing to touch the illusion of something that existed only in a head – filled with my wishes to embrace but they are beyond the reach of my fingertips…and as the winter approaches of another year a dangling feeling cries out for understanding.

And the intonation of a primordial beginning continues on a haunting journey while waves carve figures in the sand. The memory of a hopeful smile dances on the colorful tapestry of a life – still in search of meaning in the equivocal hour.