Epistle To My Present Self

Lily of the Incas with kisses begins to glow,
as change
brings blues and golds about,
the sky bearing witness to words that form
on paper.

I find myself curling into a ball
as though yesterday attempting to draw emotions out
the sweet with bitter,
the tame with wild;
I am the wind spiraling in every possible direction.

I want to let go of consternation
as lips
pave the way for questions to engage in,
they visit like the outline of the moon in the froth of cold
moving forth but bashful,
how is it that every time I extend my hand
it flutters
like a chortle sounding from the corridors
of a distant dream?

Years of closed eyelids picturing the perfect pitch,
the world
as we know it is comprised of shadows and lies
and the soul being possessed centers upon
what shines the most–
perhaps maturity means being sensitive to a situation
to how we react,
my mind shivering at the thought as leaves fall
in its wake.

You will find me obedient
as a flame at the end of a lipstick stained cigarette,
let October be as unspoken letters
let me tune in to the song of the seas,
as I give in to transformation
something bluer
than twilight and impossible
to resist.



Photo credits: AQ Arif Oil Painting, KarachiĀ 

Re-posted on the Poetry Pantry šŸŒ¹

Posted for Moonlight Musings: the interactive edition @ Poets United