“There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds.” ~ G.K. Chesterton
My thoughts move together,
clap hands and promenade,
in an unpredictable production.
The setting alternates at whim
opulent and computerized and groaning with extras
in the blink of an unseen eye,
there is only a barren stage;
a single lonely light bulb and a broken milk crate.
Thoughts blossom and burst and run pelting for the exits
and are chased on their swift lizard feet into corners
and gathered into fantastical bouquets of chameleons
that flip through color changes like a short circuiting mood ring.
I wonder at the traffic encased in my woolly hat as I make my way down a city sidewalk
and I wonder how many changes of scenery each passerby carries within them,
their placid faces belying the stormy seas and ship of dreams,
or of fools,
View original post 135 more words