Poetic Journey

Words.
Slip slither dribble and dry
on the skin of my soul.
Artists.
Visual verbal veraciously vicious for the truth
of life offer drinks.
Offer to drink.
and I….
take a glass
lift to my head
pouring
from brow to toe
absorbing passion as if
I was a sponge taking a plunge
in salted waters.
Seething.
Seeing.
Being like a stone tossed
upon the ocean floor
in pursuit of dreams
on farther shores.
Voice crying out in fear
but soul solidering
knowing the earth man and the heaven man
in me must find the end
of what I call me…
together.
Peace.
and when that time comes.
Words will.
Slip slither dribble and dry
on my skin as I toast
the artists who broke
the bottle of their blessings
upon the brow of this ship
sending me off in directions
I can only now dream of.

::peace::

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