In lip, not step.
A future with fear, a stopwatch with no stop.
I wonder, I wander, I resist, I insist.
You change, not me, in order to be free.
Free to stop time, I turn back on a dime.
Looking for the sublime in my past mind.
Imagine that. Memory like a gnat.
Straining over that. Pinned on the mat.
Is that where I sat. Was I flat?
I don’t know so I can go.
No! Stop. Grow.
I can’t know this any more.
A strangely, yet not estranged, armored amour.
Imagine this John’s linen.
Where the robber hits the road.
A living cue tip with clues that don’t accuse.
An idea powered through to a breakdown, not an empowered breakthrough. I don’t know is the breakthrough to remove the “I don’t” by rejoining you.
An arrested development becoming a resting development.
What to do. Listen. Then Listen. Then listen further. Then return to listen and love. Now overflowing with ideas to love, love on. Love never fails because there is always a next way near, not far away.
Floored crumbs rising back to the bread.
Speaking in bitten tongues.
The good old ways, not days.
Scripture language without the script.