The door slams and I find myself in a place I do not want to be. Dim lights and heavy proximity I see faces of people who do not know me Or care for me They are handlers, not friends, Preachers not pastors More spectators than players The air is stale with conversations that have no point Too much smoke, not enough atmosphere Too much drama, not enough comedy Bump and turn, shuffle and shift Bob to the left, then weave to the right Don't stop or we may lose our place If this were dance class we would all flunk There is no one keeping up We are all harmony, no one has the melody The door is locked from the outside The windows are all stuck Only the sunbeams dancing through the pains Give hope of the way things could be Should be But, at present, are not I will wait until the pain is broken Then I will ride the sunbeams out To where the air is clear Where intimate moments Friend to friend Shine long. They are born as starbursts of affection And live as love in eternal afterglows
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