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reading is the comfort of the soul

letting the mind roam the enslaved pages

deciphering the encoded messages

the poetry of polar moments

frozen until we turn the leaflike wood shavings

bound in leather or more treelike element

where our mind goes

who knows

but to return is so bittersweet

picked fruits of lyrics

language ripened to dance

tango or waltz

more spiritual like the Maasai

in a polyrhythmic trance

where does the mind go

when the words are dark

does it hide in shivers

waiting for the light to return

to this achromatic place

waiting for the turning of the dawn

where does it go…where does it go?

©2010 Tshombe | Kai Poetry

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