an old woman embarrassed but desperate whispered from a night darkened doorway for alms our guide noted how humiliating this was for her but assured us as he stepped away from her that in his country people look out for one another unlike where we came from it was then i recalled lowell’s vision of sir launfal and tho i had little to offer i had much to share and shared the gift i had
lord that child is always taking things apart can’t accept what is has to know how things work and wants to know the why of everything ain’t never gonna fit in oh my goodness did you see the wonderful thing that child just made
what if all the souls on earth had cellophane skin and we could see every organ and watch the blood flow to and fro from the heart as it beats steadily beneath the ribs what then would we choose to hate for surely man cannot live without hate would we choose how a voice sounds oh i suspect not we’d probably rely on color again except now the color of one’s eyes
though the ice looked thick it cracked with the slightest pressure like words spoken to a new lover whose broken heart hasn’t healed revealing an old memory’s icy anger
hold onto these moments when you are together the future is uncertain and unpromised you needn’t waste time on life’s trivia even when the world swears it’s important nothing can replace love so nothing should deter it
it may be hard to believe but there are some people who live life without windows to their hearts never seeing love or beauty living in the solitude of fear
the old man’s smile has not changed over the years tho it comes less often now he spends his days repairing an old boat that surely will never sail again nor will he ever be able to handle her at sea yet he continues to love as only lovers could understand for though what is remembered can never be as it was before the love has not changed and he still remembers
when we don’t fit in we’re seen as having problems convinced to believe that there’s a cure for different so we pursue an array of promissory treatments all pavlovian designed to make us conform to society’s cast of what our life should be so sameness is rewarded but being different’s punished love will be withheld confirming there’s something wrong thus posing questions of one’s sanity and worth but there’s really no known cure for being a unique soul in difficult times unique souls are our leaders but when fear subsides different becomes what’s feared so the only thing that’s wrong is what’s called conformity
slow shadow dancing the streets of rio where promises have died and dreams are just graffiti scrolled across a church wall a heart’s sadness plays from a mandolin while a guitar offers chords of hope both know the tune all too well how love fades and lovers lose what love they had all that is left is slow shadow dancing
Read Between the Minds 