till clouds sweep me off my feet onto higher planes.

the last drops of the day squeezed from the sky. I supine and languid, sprawled upon soft linen. Touching the clouds with my eyes. I wonder at the slow gesture of the heart and the dizzy heights of the mind. At the spaces between. The flux of beginnings and endings. The sudden revelation of buried desire. Seeking a pattern in chaos. Unopened doors in well windowed rooms. I find no resolution yet resolve to stay centered. Geographically. Metaphorically. Inside.