bright
10 minutes
012423
youth is bright, by youth, anything younger than where i am at this moment. the blonde gold and the star stage light behind me as i weave a story into a microphone, stunning and beautiful, hardly trying, bright in talent and sculpting an affair that evokes an emotional charge, or the thought of my heart for the day, bright like fire flames induced by crooked sticks and split open tendons of a tree trunk, the flames licking the soft beige wood flesh, the woodflesh inspiring the dance of the light we sit around the fire on skeletal chairs, our faces dancing in the shadows that change our expressions, shape shift our past lives into our present. bright, like the extending sun’s summer gazes, laying in a long grass meadow almost hidden in the tiny white flowers that hide and only bloom for tiny eyes like mine, the brilliance of the golden afternoon sun like fairy slides born from the fluffy idyllic clouds, decadent, heavenlike, through the fully leaved old oak tree, the caress of wind making the leaves dance too, flickers of the sun refracting like a shimmering god.
bright youth’s hand around my strong heart, the shine that booms from my eyes, i am not with the obstacles of experience but the ignorance that is blissfull with possibilities. no one has told me no, and i haven’t begun to torture my self with endless dull thoughts of logistics and worry.
bright she spins around on the skating rink, peeling her body into spins that feel like disco balls spinning, the blossom of her arm arcing into an illusion, grace and balance, flexibility of life-filled limbs that can bend backwards without a crack or a flinch, her chin lifting her up higher and higher as her gaze gives us something so dazzling and bling we just cannot catch our breaths in this intense light.