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.

 

 

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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

 

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

 

 

Untitled design

 


 

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

Imagination’s Parachute

For a split second I thought I saw my reflection in a passing breeze. After a moment, the breeze sat still. Then it spiraled into a small tornado, while somehow maintaining its stillness.


Lending my desire for perfection to humor for the clumsiness that follows. The entire journey goes by in a split second, and the other half of that second hasn’t happened yet. The reflections stutter then speed shuffle all in one motion, blinding me for just a moment.

A taste of radiation poisoning. I could smell the rain. Wonder seems to be the warm background, static at times, blue and static.

The wind at this altitude was different, magnetic amongst other things. A tilt in the compass, millions of maps flicker during the shuffle.
Gravity affects the surrounding clocks.
The arrival of a copper taste distracts me from what is going on.
Just as my imagination’s inkwell began to fill up, turbulence shook the room. My reflection in the oil slick stretched as the ink spilled out. It fell backwards, missing the engine schematics sitting on the table. The small ink bottle rolled toward the open window in front of me. I watched as it spiraled through the rain clouds. Left-over ink flew out, creating an oil spill in the second and third sky.

Sometimes I digress with description. Will you go blind with me?

Another tilt of the compass
Further away my steps make the edge.
Discovery expands the floor beneath us.
The sky appeared glassy, like the sky was its own telescope. It seemed almost linear, layered, with levels behind it, so that from where we stood we could look into another universe.


A few more interesting poems:

https://poets.org/poem/muddy

https://poets.org/poem/unexplorer


Image by: https://www.shutterstock.com/g/genova
1st poem written by Edna St. Vincent Millay
2nd poem written by Orlando White
Main poem written by Arron Leland
I’ll try to catch the part of me that is falling. Until then I’ll try to learn how use my wings from the butterflies that hand me the phone when you’re calling. – Arron Leland

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