Helium River

The steps feel like leaps.

Existence then awareness.

From my heart to around my shoulders.

I often had trouble understanding what I saw when I looked directly at the flame, nor was I sure about how it really worked, I considered the origin of the type of fire that I was familiar with, this seemed to be a little different though. It had been there long before I had the coat. Sometimes it would react to different moments or changes in my surroundings. Sometimes it felt like things slowed down whenever the flame would begin to spiral.

The split second faded into its connection with forever, that same glow coming from all around us.

We converse, adding to each other’s holograms and bouncing thoughts off all the reflections surrounding us.

The reflections had more of a shine when we spoke to each other.

The sky ahead of us was calm, and the smell of water evaporating off of metal began to fill the air. The steam created its own metallic clouds.

Sailing further with the wind of the shuffle. From my heart to around my shoulders.

The steps feel like leaps.

Existence then awareness.

Synchronization then reflections.

We set out hoping luck will come hang with us, the steps feel like leaps.

The magnetics and reflections push and pull with the winds. The wind from the shuffle kept the swing suspended in midair. As each push and pull takes the swing higher, the view becomes wider, showing more and more of the reflections within the shuffle at the top of each swing. At the highest point in the air the swing would stop for a split second just before it came back down. In that second— no gravity and no time— just that moment of being weightless.

The potential that sits with each moment eventually becomes forever just as the future will eventually become the now.

The split second faded into its connection with forever, that same glow coming from all around us.

 

 

Untitled design

 

 


A few more interesting poems:

https://poets.org/poem/bird-came-down-walk-328

https://poets.org/poem/old-pole-star

https://poets.org/poem/meeting

https://poets.org/poem/unpacking-globe


 

 

“Reality and imagination are threaded and sewed with the same needle, a needle that has ink and a cap.” -Arron Leland

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