we all have music within us,
we always have.
music beyond language,
for language changes.
words can wound
when yielded by people,
it became of immediate importance they leave the car.
enduring the red light took most of their patience.
and then they were free.
the gravel parking lot became their haven.
all doors opened. volume: louder. the song floated into overarching oaks. maples. clouds.
auction house two-by-four steps: the trio's stage.
grazing cows across the rural lane cared not for such exuberance.
a moment later the song ended. all doors closed. quiet fell on the lane as the car pulled away.
let the pieces drift in from the sea
one day they will make sense -
the key piece will arrive and click,
the picture will come together,
you will know.
then you can build the puzzle,
from the pieces that have always been there,
leaving room for the pieces that have yet to be.
for this is your identity,
you are becoming more you,
may you never stop being you.