Ian Poem by Gail Hudson

Up and down
It looks as though the day has begun
Mystical thoughts lather the sunrise
In the mind of a young girl
(Or a man, waiting, always waiting)
The paths lead to light and love and divinity
Defining moments in one’s life
Have become crammed in your little brain
As if to make room
You take one and throw it away
And up and down they run
From fields of repressed memories
In the warmth of the mystical thoughts
That have so generously consumed the sunlight