[77] Drift

To drift along the shores, with footed prints against the stones

—and wind, gently teasing stale songs out of yesterdays now gone.

To wander thru earthen homes, with open heart and giving ears

to cultures unknown and untried ways to stargaze—and climb the stairs.

To amble over and join the dance, of a million dreams, alluring visions,

and ancestral calls filling the voids.

To ignite with difference in every step, no judgment calls from behind great walls.

To live a day like no other echos from beating chambers lived before.

To make it all happen differently, again, pulls at the heart and opens veins—hoping to find the handle on a door yet named.