2001-07-08

There is so much
Movement around me
That the ground shakes with it
Hundreds of people
Weaving in and out of
Each others' paths
Each face telling it's
Own wordless story
Each face
A volume of poetry
That I wish I could tap
As easily as I touch
These planes that few men
Dare to travel
We chew the meat of time
Sitting in our circle
Each telling a story
While the others wait
For thier turn
Making personized mythologies
Each character becomes a demi-god
With quirks that become thier identity
Each movment a painted marvel
And they stand the perfect
Distance from each other
The Four Poets of the Apocalypse
While two lovers play out
The perfect movie sequence
I look around
And I see also
The beauty of grace
Shown in a little girl
Who is all too used
To dancing with herself
And the quick and subtle
Rythm of a man
Born to be a warrior
I hear conversations
Of old friends
And they are Tai Chi
For the mind
All of these
Universal interactions
This global dance
I watch mystified
I watch the way
The smoke rolls through
The air
Making sigils that
Only I can see
The way insects
Dart around our heads
Trancing glyphs that I
Recognize from ages past
This all-encompassing ballet
I want to video tape
At this moment
And show to the world

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