Sometimes, it seems It’s only a simple matter of gaze angle thought. A combination that, when met just right, key in lock the soul clicks. And opens.
When you believe in a dream you can reach You head out west or any of the four directions or six, counting ground And sky But some part of you returns or remains, the still point From which you travel To which some part of you always returns
Stars The stars declare so many things unseen by day yet appearing one by one to constellate a meaning when other lights go dim