Dumb

Bright glancing sun, the car is
crystalline and all things are still:
perfect coating, pale blue sky
a human Saturday - I stand and
walk with all my history intact
all my feelings packed
tight within my body - how
portable I am, a single moving
world that presents one small facet:
a face, to the outside public, a
tiny window opaque that tells
nothing of what seethes within.

We are all icebergs:  the bulk of us
hidden below the surface, one
tiny jagged tip is all we show.
Galaxies whirl, endless dark space
just is, and suns burn brightest
unseen, all my stars glittering, all
my golden and silver ponds
all of my hills, chasms, and
endless stretching leagues where
worlds collide in cascades.

But ask me what life is
and my lips are dumb.

One Year Round The Sun
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