no one is following.
where there’s no echo there’s no shoe.
footprints act circular as viewed from below.
here the bowl. here a spoon.
since when mother was the shadow of falling leaves.
I am that river too, inside myself.
empty never is. six walls, you see?
brush in hand. paint to begin.
make pizza suddenly appear on my plate.
make all dogs friendly, including bears.
kites would fly, with or without any wind. (and I’d learn swiftly to run into the wind instead of running downwind breaking my kite into little bits)
make hair grow where I want and not where I don’t.
learn to pronounce cacophony.
not confuse yoga and yogurt, ever again.
let trees decide which way the wind will blow.
make hunger be satisfied. neither shall they thirst unquenched.
think only of good things to do.
pretty people will all smile at me. OK. everyone. see?
try out sunsets in green. wouldn’t that be nice?
have afternoon tea with the dalai lama. lama lama lama. and we’d laugh & laugh.
learn to write upside down.
people will see heaven, right in front of them.
I won’t be “careful” about what I say. not careless I mean, but honest, simply that.
and rain, whatever it wants to do, that will be exactly fine by me.
neil reid © 2015