Even though words are too simplistic
Thoughts come sweetly
Sneak up behind to startle me with desires
I assumed were too difficult to find

Sensitivity, would you know touches that live in the moment
Alive with an alternate positivity
A reality painted on sand, stardust and stone

Hand-tinted ideas wax and wane across expectant feelings
Barely leaving any trace behind
Except for scattered reflections that skirt the back of my mind

Creativity, could you see echoes that thrive in every moment
Alive with subtle spontaneity
Synchronicity chilling me to the bone
A reality painted on sand, stardust and stone

[July 09, 1996 & May 13, 1997]