Cracks in the Pavement
I forgot the first line of this poem. It came to me upon waking but is now lost to the morning ether, or to my alert ego, busily planning my busy day. The world I am helping to build wants to be watertight. Yet when I was just a kid, I saw only cracks in the pavement with all kinds of entry portals into a spiritual and imaginative world. I believe my soul is speaking to me through my slow, deliberate exhales. I strain to hear that mystical voice, now sharing with my inner child, the inherent beauty and freedom in simply being alive.
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