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Watching him go before me,
unable to hear the voice
hidden behind closed skies…
Residual movements
play like shadows in the trees,
somber face of the Night
holding something back-
Only what she thinks I need.

Still I see him there before me,
setting aside the falling mass,
restless wings stirring space,
staring thru the glass,
awaiting acknowledgement…
A picture of this bridge,
—crosses void, crosses black—
stands unwavering in the wind,
for the passage of words,
holding back
until I am He.

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Although I believe in the general purpose of cryptic abstractions, I also enjoy the idea of a person having in hand the right colored lenses when looking at certain emmisions…
I have for years swam around in the distorted reflections of the universal Him and Her… above and below.. and here I observe a Mover.. and his Hinderer..
for those without the courage to trust their own voice, and stand in denial because they hear none but their own.. Not knowing what to believe.. or who to trust.. “crosses void”..
this is a song to the moment..
an eternity of moments

Bobby Irelan
DOC #F59719