What fun to find
that without my fear
or the lies that resistance insures survival,
tomorrow becomes a yesterday in waiting.
Where time resembles
a canine expectation
on windowsill watch -
a perfect strategy
to stay in puerile fascination.
To know the whole of everything
with that childlike speculation
of what makes sense in this world.
A world that’s still, when my heart is full.
A world not needing much in certainty.
Just being quiet enough to hear
creation in conversation.
And in this world of mine
today is the only thing of value,
not needing trust or hope
but imaginations
that have just enough wisdom
to be confidants of the absurd,
to ask to place a window next to everything
as perhaps I'll need to go out and play.
— Ed Sancious
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