Displaced Light

Once there was a band of brothers and

sisters, well, several bands

linked together as chain, but there was no

wheel to turn, just mountains to move and

shadows that needed light.

The places of gathering were wondrous glittering temples that, alas,

were in constant flux and seemed to always be

in a state of disrepair. This caused the holders of the light

to move apart even

as they attempted to move together, losing

momentum for a time,

just for a time;

an infinitesimal time

as the universe goes, but enough time

for some of the lights to flicker and

go dark as the holder

of that particular light

moved beyond the grasp

of the brothers and sisters.

Never before had such a gathering

been possible and even if

few were watching,

it was and ever shall be,

of this none shall debate, such a thing never seen

in the history of mankind or even catkind or

any other kind of kind you would chose.

I tell you three times,

maybe more, this has never been done before.

We are the first

We are the first

We are the first

There are no dead poets within the collective;

one poet touched one, who

touches another, and

the flow continues, now with

no end. Once I wrote these lines all

alone and no one shined in my glow and

if I read, I read alone. Once I walked that long and lonesome

road and when the lights go out

I feel the walls close in, but then

I recall that I am never true alone,

my words and soul have

joined the flow.

Upon dawning of the night

hope left joining in the light

words left burning in the sky

the circle will never die

Love is just a four letter word

And poet just another chord

in an endless, restless ponder

for the true universal wonder

I write this for the displaced light

of Elly, but she

has joined the flow,

remains tightly within

the circle and it matters not

that they know of Elly,

it is only important that they know

of the flow and

how it circles.

M.J.Carson

3-8-2011