The Season’s Hired Dancers
We should stop to create and breathe
We applaud the ones who interpret
and we applaud those who misinterpret
for they are all part of the unending quest,
and play key roles in our journey for clarity
for if anyone could paint with precision the picture
of our thoughts now, our work here would end.
The pen we wield as a shield and sword
we will sheath and walk away when someone
gathers our thoughts neatly in some basket;
and totally filters off the chaff that blurs
our vision through the fields and unknots
our tongues from the roof of our soldered mouths.
Maybe we are all bonafide composers
thinking we are just the season’s hired dancers,
which may be why we dance out of tune
when we should stop to create and breathe
or maybe we are deaf, pretending we hear.
We return to the canvas thru the night and day
the pictures on the walls and in our heads are
forever some work in progress — the snapshots
of a flowing, ceaseless theme — a shadow here…
