Watching the parade
and longing to ride,
but stand in the shadows,
needing to hide.
Wings are not clipped,
so why not soar?
Afraid to enter
an opening door.
Visibility to some
the ultimate goal,
to another the threat
of losing their soul.
Why seems it a sin
to want only to live,
to answer when called
and with everything give?
No production!
No success!
No fame!
No coin!
Just…
quiet happiness.
Making beautiful things
for their own sake,
not to barter or sell
but any may take.
Invisible
I am
in a crowded place,
for
they look right through
the pain on my face.
Sometimes lost
and sometimes found,
accepted, rejected-
the senses confound
rational ideas!
Disappearing within,
the quiet calm
is as a balm.
Disappearing,
not dying.
Merely being,
tired of trying.
Always trying…
to fit in,
a color that won’t blend,
a peg that won’t fit,
an…
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WILDsound Festival 