Index 
Stoned
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The long silver icicles dangling outside My window are captured temporarily By the frosted air. Tomorrow they may melt and be gone, Escaping the tangible world of perception Flowing as water to some form or another, Becoming lost in the rivers of many melted icicles. But right now they can be, seen, felt, And admired in their radiant beauty. They bring me joy and a sense of gratitude. I am awed by the silver-blue splendor Inherent within them, and thankful For the chance to appreciate What I can perceive today. They seem to represent time standing still For a brief moment So the wonder of life can be grasped Before it slips away again And it hidden in the clamor and confusion Of ceaseless dynamism. |
Maybe their beauty would wane If they were permanent. Maybe I would become inured and apathetic And fail to appreciate them as now, Being stunned into complacency by overexposure. Realizing that tomorrow or the day after The icicles will be gone, I try to catch every sparkle and rainbow That now shine within water’s crystalline form In hopes that the beauty I sense now Will carry through the inevitable tomorrows, When beauty appears lost. So excuse me if I seem somewhat Wide-eyed and childish, But I am only trying to catch What I can today, For tomorrow or the day after, Love may also melt. |