“Between Worlds” by Pheonyx Roldan Smith
a river flows
between the senses.
what i see is not where i am
where i am is beyond where can most can see;
like a bird hidden among the branches of a tree,
caught somewhere between the earth and the sky,
somewhere between that which is to be
and that which once might have been.
the faces on the ground are but shadows;
shades and shapes of the expressionless.
big nose or small,
short stature or tall,
round eyes or none at all;
each attempting to recall
a sense of something that signaled man
long before the fall.
a river flows
but neither up or down,
nor north or south, betwixt rock or ground;
nor shall either east or west ever tame it
no more than the ocean itself,
the river’s source and end as well,
can fully claim it.
no, this river flows in every direction
with every recollection;
and the higher the mind,
the more endless the perfection.
a river flows through every eye and mouth;
through every whisper and shout
of the winter wind through the trees;
through every blade of grass in eager spring;
and every place it touches within the in-between.
and to the Soul that sees
beyond the nature of jagged things,
the entirety of it all is simply lost and found upon this river of dreams.
caught within the current of this flow,
flowing tirelessly upon the River Know,
somewhere between the endless sea
and the tallest mountain buried beneath the snow.
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