I hold onto moments, small ones.
Some only images that enlighten me.
I go back to moments, old ones.
Some only words that outrun me.
I imagine moments, brief ones.
Some only lightened trails that encourage me.
Intro for: The Sorrow and the Laughter (Christensen, 2017); P.264 You decide this of dreams and visions: I beheld a young to middle aged teenager, weeping in his mother’s apron. When […]