afternoon delight.

I came into being earlier today,

cross-legged in a familiar seat.

A building I knew well.

Lingering traces of songs and sonnets,

perched on the air.

But today a prophet stood on the stage,

clearing away stale webs with words.

She reminded me that there is a finite amount of time,

on this plane.

This strange, sphere called Earth.

Creativity is a gift to the creator.

My mind says go

and then

my soul soars




tearing through the afternoon clouds.