It is all a blur now
Swift memories
Poking holes in my sightline
Clouds escape
Through my skin
Like water seeps
Through shaky fingers
Unfiltered
Vaporized
Returning to the sky
To rain once again
As tears
Of joy
Of sorrow
Into the iridescent pool
Of my very existence
Indeed it is our memories that make our lives what they are. They strengthen us and perhaps are not as unique, nor unused as we may think. Video – Photography- Narration – Ambient Music – me ©2019
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 
Love this post too, Mark! The artwork, the video with the birds flying and your profoundly existentialist verses full of gorgeous images combine perfectly. Great spoken word!
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Thank you Marta!
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My pleasure.
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Beautiful words, beautiful flace 🙂
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Sorry I meant beautiful place 🙂
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Thanks so much!
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