Three Hours – 7 PM

YOU were the ground:
so happy, shoveling the sand;
so joyful, rolling in the grass --
soft and squishy, bare feet running,
the smell of flowers filling your nose, and
the earth itself filling your heart --
you were that ground.

YOU were the water:
lying on your back, arms spread wide,
held by the liquid embrace that cushioned you,
sound of the ocean breathing, as
the sun set on what was your tension --
ripples spreading from a black pond hidden
from the eyes of all but few --
you were that water.

YOU were the fire:
city lights ablaze, like the lights in your eyes --
hot the feeling, crowds in a frenzy,
inhaling excitement, exhaling the feeling
of bodies alive with the flames of desire,
two later, alone, in a tangle of burning,
and more, in the words you pour out in volcanoes --
you are that fire.

NOW become the wind:
let got of the past, and your ease, and your passion,
for opposites live in your very existence,
they're all of them you
yet they're none of them all --
there's more the moments that have been, there's those
you have yet to feel, like this one, like this one --
now become the sky, and the clouds, and the wind.

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One thought to “Three Hours – 7 PM”

  1. earth, water, fire and now the imperative, wind. perfect and where I’d like to be only I am still firmly tied and tangled and anchored in each. It is such a struggle to break free.
    Thank you for sharing another beautiful and meaningful poem.

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