If it is…

Standard

If it is song, then we can sing

If it is prayer, then we can pray

If it is silence, then we can think

Too many if, then contemplations to consider

I find myself remembering less when I focus on trying to figure out more, details

Of this and that, of her and him

Faces that shift shape and illuminate questions of recognition

But are we that familiar?

I ask for forgiveness from the deep vibrations of my bones

Can you hear the echo bouncing off of the muscles and tendons

digging down into the deep, dark edges of my soul;

Hiding from the reaper, seeking within?

Belief seems fake and brittle these days

But I’ve never understood the belief in the falsity of placing so much meaning on

any particular word, words, to outline:

Some definition of phrase to listen to or compose for a muse’s kind of gathering

Would you listen to the voices calling out random names,

Quiet whispers dancing on the erratic changes of the wind?

The identity of a character determined by the mind of the reader,

And who hears, what is being interpreted the “correct” way;

to trust in communicating and giving up on all other

interpretations to shuffle through.

If it is song, then we can sing

If it is prayer, then we can pray

If it is silence, then we can think

 I am grateful for today and what I have learned. ❤

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