What runs through the center?

In the beginning, we agreed.

Then there was the smallest ripple of discontent.

A mere, “Aw come on.” And so we did.

But we didn’t. Agree, that is.

There was the tap, “Look at it this way.”

Which led to the shoulder shake, “You have to admit…”

which resulted in the back turn

where after came the word toss

followed closely by the paper airplane propaganda.

We sneered and shot withering glances

which now fell quite short across the broad expanse.

So we threw stones

that were answered by cannon;

Our artillery barrage

was met by sniper fire.

We’re exposed. Take cover!

We retreat and regroup in our caves

across the crevasse,

a huge canyon now between us.

Sad, we say. We didn’t want this, we say.

We are a people who love, we tell ourselves.

Love rains down into our canyon, cuts through rock and stone to shape cliffs and ledges, gouging cracks into crevices into streams of unhindered flow to the bottom where it runs and tumbles and gurgles and plays.

Clear and sweet and icy cold.

I am thirsty.

Dare I risk a sip, standing on its banks?

So exposed. So naked.

I would be so close – 

so close I could see them,

perhaps even hear them.

What then?

In the beginning, God came from a great distance, down a great chasm, into a wide ravine and turned water to wine. Drink, all who are thirsty.

That’s good wine, we agreed. 


About wlebolt

Life comes at you fast. I like to catch it and toss it back. Or toss it up to see where it lands. I do my best thinking when I'm moving. And my best writing when I am tapping my foot to a beat no one else hears. Kinesthetic to the core.

Posted on February 19, 2014, in Deeper Sensation, Life and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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