there he stood on mainstreet
with a broom in his hand
over-looking the scenery.
he was the only one there that day.
in the courtyard, a sun-dial existed
with inscriptions of existential rays.
that particular day he took a step back
and reminisced about life.
it was like two glasses of wine
held in the air,
like a couple at dinner
to symbolized their love,
like philosophy is the rose
and individuality its petal,
its jetstreams expressed in biorhythmic fashion.
fingertips like tuners
begin to bring together
those rings of interconnectedness
for the feel of the right pitch
in the enlightenment of ecstasy.
This made me happy for some reason, even though there’s definitely a sadness about the scene, too. It’s like this person is in his own world and is tuning into all that’s good about it.
thanks lora. isolating can be good when needed. then one figures a few things out through books.