Sprinkling color all around a summer morning,

Disused buildings take a well-deserved rest.

Smiling quietly in the sun,

ignoring passerby’s cat-calls of repair and renovation.

 

And instead, bask in the peace and harmony of the day.

 

Kissing the summer morning with sunlight,

All awakens in response,

Taking its proper place in the workd,

Beautiful, busy and natural.

 

Even the old, suddenly not neglected,

Watch on, smiling silently,

As new paint falls from the sky,

Spilling color to their feet.

 

 

The renewal begins today,

Despite my appearance and the desire to look forlorn and neglected.

These are merely traits and temptations to bring us down.

 

For even though seemingly abandoned,

I am not alone.

 

Circles with no purpose,

in fact not circles at all,

rather a single, curved line,

with edges not to be crossed.

 

Leading inwards.

To a center, some call her soul.

By its single touch all is transformed,

into beauty and something pleasing,

to God.

 

Dwelling deep in her soul,

she incites her to action,

knowing only God himself is worthy of it … and has it to give.

 

Not worrying about outcomes,

Having done what was in her power … at the time,

and remains in the calm presence of God,

now enjoyed almost constantly.

 

Waiting for the next assault from the foe,

Her peace is well protected.

 

 

Many left, I didn’t.

Some to the army, others to the states.

I stayed.

A decision not to go is still a direction,

sometimes more risky than the unknown,

and with roots to home.

 

If home is a place. Not a feeling.

 

 

As if by magic it appears in front of me.

God’s world leaping off an old two dimensional page,

all repetitiveness, toil, love and struggles,

suddenly mixed in colors indescribable,

but felt in a heart.

 

No need to comprehend, only savor.

 

Sitting in midafternoon sun,

Offering myself to the world,

in the hope of pollination,

All seems well.

 

Here I remain, ready to be either admired or picked,

according to man’s need.

 

As observed, the bee seems the perfect servant,
Traveling from one location to another.
Random, but somehow perfect,
Appearing distracted yet always at work.

Living in that smaller world, to us,
we look down on them,
and receive their toil over breakfast toast,
or other parts of life which require sweetening.

Thinking ourselves better, because we can think.

 

Sometimes, actually a lot, I miss stuff.

It is lost in my every day,

unnoticed, or heavily disguised,

whatever,

it is missed.

 

Might be an image, a familiar noise,

people, food,

the autopilots of my life,

painting a backdrop which seems to be only

one color and one sound.

Gray and bleak.

 

So let today be different.