Posted by: SPT | August 30, 2012

Cloud Pacing

Deciding where to hover, I cloud around.


Floating by the landscapes I revered, I now consider my scenery an aesthetic sphere with physical objects responding to my sensory fears. I know too well the ambition I call my drive is near, but so much is still unclear. The absolute ways, the irrelevant phase – combined, I see myself in a daze. This momentary state I place myself in is taxing my emotional ways. “Already decide,” I tell myself. Why hesitate when I choose to wait, “Just begin your day.” 


If only it were that easy, for I speak with queasy thoughts about concrete flow charts. I stand in front of professionals with a sway, and even though I feel confident, I always say: “Excuse me today.” What about my life made me this way?


Professing my love, I hand off my trust. Clueing in others on the imperfect lust I contain for both life and my relationships, a must for me, is nestling. Serious ‘ships and lifelong exercises encrust the layers from which I dust off my past, so I add a new chapter to my fast. Giving up the elements in my caste which made me sad, I feel connected to my stance. My soul is flawed but I move forward with my jaw, biting away for the hopes of tomorrow’s weight. Keeping in mind I no longer can tell time, I weigh the gravity with distaste for the orbit in which I rotate. 


“Acknowledge the origins of your safe,” I consider, “for it holds your heart’s desire in space.” An expansive mason jar which I call my universe, disconnected from its eternal pace, I case the situation and approach my predicament with a bold face. 


Feet shoulder-width apart, I stand upright and lace my actions with a progressive grace. Movement is not as important as the counting of days and the impact I’ve made, for I’m held back by these two in life’s race. Distance matters as much as first place, thus I chose to slow my rate, for there is no competition in the ways we determine the value of our spiritual ways. The finish line can arrive with last place, a simile for the time it takes to reach the pearly gates. Actions mine consequences in a resourceful way, so I remain conscious of the various directions that my outlines trace.


I am only matter in space. But no matter what I occupy, my dreams I forever chase.



Knowing a destination needs to be chosen, I pace around my room. Sliding about, I let time past me with no focus on the “now”. The basic questions in life trouble me, causing internal strife, but my approach is controlled and a reminder of human plights.


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