Wisps of Sentient Threads
Thread me through the narrowest needle of the sky..
I am but a stream of haze now as I weightlessly fly by
leaving the heaviness behind, I rise before your eyes
carried on the breeze of shamisens, kotos, flutes and waking dreams.
I am the fog descending to meet the earth on a mountain side.
I am wisps of sentient threads, that dip and surge, on the airborne tide,
becoming and dissolving, sometimes the shape of nothing as I slide;
the sounds and music play me like a puppeteer, until I dance for you.
With no body anymore; there’s nothing left to see, just feel, as I pass.
The music, guides me towards the other side of this fragile looking glass,
until I am but a river, a stream of consciousness, meandering through the grass,
running through the land, I’d left behind; then the music ends… and I open up my eyes.
Nov. 1, 2020
*Footnote: Thank you Sundaram for sharing this ethereal music with me..It made
me write a poem:)