Light in my eyes and time in my brain
Dreaming down the path toward the woods.
In the big moment before it takes flight
Flashing red, a bird becomes a word.
A stone in my boot reminds me.
Preferring an empty mind
I pause to remove it.
What should I say about this
To other minds in other bodies?
I would say that flashes of light
And moments of time
Birds on branches taking flight
Are not words.
They are something else entirely.
They are our lives
Real for a moment
Streaming trails of words in their wake.
*
What’s Real – Tullio – 2015
