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Eva B Apr 2020
On the side of the path where overhead
treetops meet to tickle
each other, the roots
from two trees are knotted
together.

Meet me by that knot.
Kiss me like you said
you would.
Steve Page Feb 2020
Each line,
each sound enters a secret combination and swings wide a door of opportunity to me who follows
And as it appoaches it's close, the line turns and holds open that door, just for a few moments, before moving on,
and if you're quick enough, if you time it right, you who follow can take the weight without the skill needed to open it, and so you say your thanks
and then you too can pause as you look back and pass the weight , the opportunity onto a someone who follows on.

And so we follow, on to the turn of the next words of revelation,
timing and attention crucial to maintaining the flow of opportunity
until every now and then a mis-step necessitates a stretch, a reach and catch of the door, giving effort to reverse the swing and maintaining the offering of access
and in return we might receive a thank you from they who follow us.
And smiling, we follow on.
Ursula K le Guin: 'I see my job as holding doors open, opening windows, but who comes in and out the doors?'
Ameed Feb 2020
nothing matters anymore
different paths were taken
emotions will degrade themselves
e v e n t u a l l y
...
la fin = the end (from French)
P panda Feb 2020
Curious he seemed,
glaring at sky.
The five year old thought,
the stars followed him.

From the car window,
He glazed upwards.
Eyes sparkled
And he again leaped forward.

Mother see! the starts are following me.

Heart so supple
mind so clear,
The five year old felt the love
no one could hear.

Anxious, that if the night sleeps
the stars will loose their path.
Distressed with the thought,
he sat and to the window he leaped.

Eyes sparkled,
curious he asked,
Mother will the starts come home ?
and back he looked and smiled,
beholden that the stars looked at him.

The sky black,
full of stars
followed him
along the endless paths.

Little did he know,
the darkness waits for none,
down the road,
his stars were gone.
S I N Dec 2019
Have you ever noticed those
Grandmas, who stand in the middle of
The road without purpose and as if lost;
Not in the middle of a conversation or
Waiting for a bus on a stop; just some part
Of a road you would least expect it to see
Someone standing there all alone
Especially a senile woman all alone; but
There she stands inconceivable and
Baffles you as you walk by noticing her
Though only on the periphery of your
Vision; and thus your paths diverge w/out
Both of you acknowledging it; but you still
Go on and she still stands there all by
Herself; and that is the truth
Pyrrha Dec 2019
The roads I will take
Will be long and winding
Curvy and broken
Split and cracked
***** and dark
Damp and cold

They will lead to dead ends
Disasters and regrets
Heartaches and pain
Insecurities and envy
Burden and loss

They will hold sorrow and judgement
Fear and turmoil
Insincerity and tenebrosity
Anxiety and dread
Betrayal and delusion

But they will one day
Come to an end

The roads I will take
Will lead to floral paths
Full of sunshine and clear skies
Laughter and curiosity
Innocence and empathy
They will be beautiful; pulchritudinous

They will lead to destiny
Opportunities and possibilities
Miracles and dreams
Wishes and desires
Elegance and grace

They will hold hope
joy and excitement
Wonder and relief
Satisfaction and love
Peace and tranquility

They will have been worth it
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