the world feels close today

the sun is closer today
setting fire to every pore
on this ragged skin I wear.
the world shrunk into one bubble
wrapped in ancient notes of silence,
what was once home.

a tiny bird resting on the
topmost branch of a bare tree,
filling herself with song and sun
today, I see her wings flap
a timelapse video
in a timeless pause,
she feels closer today
as I touch her softly
with my eyes,
even as she darts into the still blue
without a ripple.

a white tree stands out
in the crowd,
her stark purity
drawing my heart close,
I can smell her
from the distance today
and feel her flowers
celebrating life with their
utter softness.

and then, my eyes wander
upon the form of a tiny butterfly,
her orange matching the sun
as if it decided to come down
here and play with her for a while,
my being filled with music
the joy of simply being alive!

stoic pods hanging from the
roots of trees seeking sky,
with nothing
and everything
to do,
steeped into a patient waiting
for new life.

I look around

the world does feel closer today

like a home I never had
yet always wanted to feel,
where everything rests
in peace
the resting place of a billion hearts
looking for a forever home
that always is
that always can be,
if I remember
to feel
to pause.

Boredom

this boredom
is a waiting room -
a pause
within
a spinning pause;

sometimes,
a fish tank
with roving eyes,
prying open
a masked existence;

sometimes,
a magazine picked up
from a corner rack,
filling
an unmistakable hollow
with a fleeting delight
of forgotten selves;

sometimes,
muted piped music
pulsing through
a sleepy heart
ruminating on the speed
of turning wheels;

often,
a necessary sabbatical,
nudging a self
to get back
in conversation
with an ordinary life
that's always alive.

There is Something in the Silence

there is something
in the silence
in the kitchen,
while I stand there
chopping, stirring,
pouring, swishing,
tasting, smelling,
reaching for, or
putting away,
what's needed or not;

I hear the dry rattle
of paper thin wings,
that belong to
a golden dragonfly;
she was circling the light,
as if she knew
when to close in
or move out and across
invisible walls of light -
now resting, now dancing,
now changing course,
encircling herself
in that strange silence;

there is something
in the silence
in the kitchen.

Desires

desires -
they are inside
that middle drawer
in my kitchen
that slides back out
soon after I push it back in,
again and again,
standing out
like a sore thumb,
attracting my attention,
refusing to stay
where I want it to stay -
closed shut.
but then,
it keeps me on my toes,
as I watch it carefully,
giving me space
to look in, and pull out
what I want
in a jiffy,
to lay itself open
to my roving eyes,
that have too much to see
in this busy world,
drawing them
to a fervent pause
to watch the longings -
not to put them in place
but to feel their journey
from in to out,
to that exact point
where they stop and stay,
rooted in the presence
of warm eyes
that leave them
open or shut,
all day.

Seeing

a falling apart
or a coming together
of worlds
new and old?

a fragmented self
or a cryptic whole
aglow
in a new light,
seen beyond darkness?

A pause
for a breath,
and the view
is magical!