Pictures

Pictures of different areas of life, they confront and perhaps they ask, perhaps they question. I guess that they could intimidate, if one allowed them to. And what is a picture anyway, but a moment that has chosen to sleep. So away from pictures, life continues in its motion, and this motion that life has about it, it tempts and it provokes a person to get in touch with it, to deal with it, to be alongside of it. There is golden in the memory of sun. The sun seems to overwhelm the day, and its pictures. And then there are pictures that are inside the head, and often accompanied by words, perhaps foreign to them. I guess that they try to get in time, attempt to create understanding. And alongside those pictures that are in my head, are the people in the pictures, and the memory of them. And sometimes along with the words that wish to accompany the picture, comes some kind of music, perhaps, it is a song, or perhaps it is just a melody. And electric eyes, firing their way into another soul, when the other soul has nowhere to turn or to go. The only place to look sometimes is future memory, just to get out of this place as it happens to be, now. It could take a long time to escape, it could possibly take a lifetime. Fortune deals its cards. One by one they are picked up, and one by one each of us is identified. Isn't it strange, how the things of life, affect one different from the next? So I guess, to be in touch with reality, you have to be in touch with possibilities. And horses dance and lions lie down with tigers, and scenes of the city, are embarrassed into feeling alone. The beaming sun radiant in its style, just ask for acceptance and again the question reaches the mind.