when poetry was playtime,
spiral notebooks
and scattered dreamchild thoughts...
my world of words was vast,
expanding with every breath,
every inhalation of imagination...

i feel as a statue again...
turned to stone for wandering
aimless through this winter narnia.
the muse of seasons
blurred by white upon white upon grey.
my eyes fixated on the sky
wondering when i will see fresh blue again.
even raindrops to quench my tongue.

should i hibernate with chenille blankets
and feather pillows and kitten purrs to keep me warm...?

ahhh, but there is the subject of survival in this
rotting city.
i'm forced to stray from my comfort bed
and scrape the ice from my windshield
warm my self from the inside out.
cover skin with gloves
and trail slush with my feet.
all so i can keep my sanctuary of peace...
if only to be there for a few moments a day.

and when i am able to return to my
absolute abode,
i am tired and escape to dreams.
this trudging through the days,
makes weary my soul.

i go over ideas on how to change my life.
change careers with out changing my current lifestyle.
for i am truly happy, save for the nonsense of
meandering through a maze of career planning.

for my ultimate goal to take place,
one must have money,
and one must prosper,
if i want to have a world within a cafe
where leaving is unecessary,
and hibernation is plausible.

but how to enjoy my Self
while creating this money.
and creation is the key.
i want to create...
make art
make love
and have the means to meet
our desires at the same time.

this world will change
and we will work
while playing
and collect souveniers
to share with others when it is raining...

for this current time
is not how any of us wish it to be,
except perhaps those who are still blind.

there is a way...

stop using your mind
and plan with Soul...

12/05/2002

Posted on 12/05/2002
Copyright © 2025 Bethany Lee