Consciousness Streams

Drifting with words

concentrating only 

on sound or sight until a phrase that wants to unravel itself, spills words on the page like baubles from a broken necklace. 

It has been up to me 

to pick them up one by one,

setting aside those that belong 

to another bit of jewelry until 

they all string together on 

the thread of my thoughts.

Finding a clasp that joins them lets me breathe deeply 

   this one more day when I wrote 

      one more wordy bit of creativity

set for myself with only frames of time and space

to focus and craft a thought 

drifting past my mind’s eye 

in fancy dress or somber colours

always finding a place

 of hope or 

     maybe of joy 

        or maybe of perspective 

          or maybe of gratitude. 

flowing freely from my heart. 

Crafting my words define a place 

  not dogmatic, 

     pragmatic or 

        automatic and

not spitting out what might sound

right to someone else. 

Someone else will see them 

    in a different light, 

      from a different slant and 

         through the different lens 

of their experience 

My words will even be read

in all of those ways ~

a difference of form than 

my heart has sent out to this world of 

  men, 

    women and 

       children 

who know only their own lives 

for what they were, are and could be. 

Many streams of consciousness that make up 

     the voices of many

        put to the words of one.

“Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like 

short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness 

without beginning or end.”

~ Haruki Murakami