i am the stream…

i am the stream…

of consciousness.

it is 2:38pm, monday, the In The Beginning day of the week

august 14. twenty seventeen, whatever that means

it is the day when i want to forget the days and seconds and step into infinity,

the un-time

when will my day come. this is not a question. not anymore. when will i be the well versed and well fed writer who need only spill ink onto the page and the letters and words figure skate to my thoughts, shaving ice into paragraphs

i stream across the un-pulp, the bits and bytes that give life back to the trees, so that i can write guilt free. still, i am guilty. the words have not yet transformed nations, creating a quasi peace, something i could leave to my children’s children

my words don’t bleed for them, not yet. my words don’t bleed, so they will never need to bleed, and sweat and cry for what could have been

i bleed for the horizon i have yet to reach, for the words that need to be found to conjure beauty and caste a spell upon our heart so it will grow eyes and wings, to see each other in the mirror, to fly into infinity

i seek the un-time, the edge of tomorrow

there is where we will find a wasteland of mondays, their bones almost dust

leaving only the un-time, on a mound made for our children to cast prayers to the un-gods

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