The Changes Poem by RIC BASTASA

the ideas come and they do not wait.
they enter your door and they do not knock.
they leave without any permission from your house.
they have colored wings and they simply fly away upon their liking.

they are so beautiful and deep and glistening.
enlightening and you miss them

now you sit there, speechless on the blankness of your world.
why did you not write when they were here beautifully dancing and singing?

you know how is it with the clouds
the more with air
and mists

they always change and they do it
as quickly as a wink

you know what clouds do
the form upon you some stories
the rainy ones sometimes and you shed tears
in the same manner with the air and mists

the air passes and sometimes you do not even feel it
and so you miss the story that it is bringing
the story of a journey
into somewhere

and the mists bring you some notes about what to do
in the darkness of the night
yet you tarry on the grass and on the side of the hill

you miss the essence of our beings
we are ghosts and we do not know where we are hidden.