Dear Kindred Spirit,
Fluttering in the wind.
A slave of life;
A prisoner
Anchored to this reality;
Oh how you wish to be free.
Free from that to which you are chained;
Chained so securely;
So that in your convulsive, spasmodic dance
You will not happen upon your quest
Knowing that death is not a place to be
But a transition to be made,
From one reality to the next.
How far, Dear Spirit can you see;
From your fluttering perch so high?
How soon will you rest from your lack of control?
Fore it’s by another’s hand you are thrown
But know, not ever away.
The direction to which is merely a tease
A taste but never a swirl,
A sip but never a gulp! Gulp…gulp, gulp-gulp-gulp-gulp…
Oh how you wish to be free.
But freedom is in the moment
To see,
To comprehend that what is, is.
To learn from all that is seen
And heard above that clamorous roar
Of indecision and greed.
Dear Kindred Spirit,
Fluttering in the wind.
A slave of life;
A prisoner
Anchored to this reality;
Oh how you wish to be free.
Free from that to which you are chained;
Chained so securely;
So that in your convulsive, spasmodic dance
You will not happen upon your quest
Knowing that death is not a place to be
But a transition to be made,
As I move
FROM ONE REALITY TO ANOTHER
By
Sammie L. Carter
Copyright 4 a.m. Wed. 2/16/2011
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