It is nighttime and I, having already retired to my bed desire that my mind should rest also. So here we are, pen and paper and wakeful thought.
Whether I speak the words or write them, they have the last say.
And tonight they have informed me that they are tired (Oh how I wish that was the last word of this sentence)
of being spoken into the air- who
has no mind to hear or keep them.
And so,
tonight the air only feeds
the trees
who feed the world's
lessening paper supply
(blogging and technology will someday be the only records we keep) (I don't really believe that)
who
then in turn
feed you. AND
If I am lucky
your mind and your heart.
I hear air helps your heart by itself too but anyhow.
My narrative has moved so quickly along in the excitement alone
of being that i must revert to the original thoughts that had wont for this occasion at all.
It is late and I notice
(as I do frequently in a day)
on my left ring finger
that the color of the diamond
who sits there is exactly
like a star.
It reflects the good brilliance of every color and winks at me in any light.
That's all.
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