Places remained

I am not a traveler yet.
I am but a journeyman.
Ambiguous, you might say, but it makes perfect sense.
I trade my knowledge and emotions,
My shoes and my traditions,
For a sense of contentment that we search for; usually vapidly.

Places remained from my memory
Of a time when the hands of the clock refused to budge.
They just moved in the back of my mind,
Reminding this fluid for the lack of a better word.
Like a black swan anomaly.
Like snow in a desert.

The cello creakes silently against the winter sun.
It plays a melancholic polytone as the credits drop
Languidly over the vivid screen of life.
It was a good year and warrants a better start,
But, being human is a deterrent to an otherwise perfect world.
I'd rather not have my epitaph written in stone.
Let it be blank. You are cordially invited to scribble a thought or two.

Pillion view

Elvis has left the building,
And Levi's never invented the rivets.
A new idea born out of a juggled mind
Gorged with white lines drawn surreptitiously clean,
Evokes a sense of rapture that envelopes every other sense.

When goals are set to tones
Reminiscent of the licks the left-handed guitarist conjured,
You can safely assume that you have slowly drifted into uncharted territory
That might seem inviting at first,
But gets ugly when the reptiles trudge away, content, and satiated with a full belly.

Ideas set in stone mirror hopes left behind.
Breaks between the glass lets the shallow air through.
The virtue called Grace might just slip through unnoticed
After that lunatic evening by the poolside.
Tend to the soul with a drink by the sea perhaps.

Stare closer into the looking glass once awake.
It is human to delineate the emotions that surface on such short notice.
Brush away that hair sitting brazenly by your lip
And take heart in the fact that the water the tap emits is still comfortably cold.
Takes little time to turn that gift of God into a tepid collection of unwanted muck.

Shoes help us walk with ease,
All the while keeping us inches away from the ground.
We never really 'hit the road' ; We glide nonchalantly over sharp stones and broken pavements.
Forgiveness is a coherent decision to listen,
When we realize we need to reconcile with our indifference.