EVOCATION

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By Tom H. Brooks 3

Introducing STREET JOURNAL 67…

A special one-entry-only edition…

EVOCATION
 
A man sits alone beneath a tree
 
with sunlight filtering down
 
through the branches
 
 
He gets in touch with 
 
his deepest, innermost thoughts
 
 
He sits poised above a blank page
 
A page white as the driven snow
 
A page waiting for something 
 
Like a universe waiting to be created
 
Holding its breath in anticipation
 
 
The tension builds
 
And then…
 
WORDS
 
 
Words written in books
 
Words etched on walls
 
Words embedded in stones
 
Words buried in the earth
 
Thoughts twisting in 
 
tiny whirlwinds in a dusty field
 
Ideas lying dormant like a 
 
red wheelbarrow leaning against
 
an old farmer`s shack in a rice field
 
Words spoken
 
Words not spoken
 
Words never written
 
Stories never told
 
The thoughts that went
 
unheard
 
unseen…
 
Words floating on a summer breeze 
 
across the sands of time
 
Words carved in stone in the 
 
boundless desert wasteland
 
Words rolling down the highway
 
Words in a roadhouse bar
 
Words in a glass of whiskey
 
Words swirling in blue cigarette smoke
 
Words floating through the mind like phantoms
 
Words lost in the labyrinth that is oneself
 
Words behind bars struggling to get out
 
Words painted in the majestic colors of a sunset
 
Words hovering at the edges of the clouds
 
Words etched into your mind as twilight falls
 
Words crashing in the roar of the waves
 
Words in the music of city streets
 
Words between the legs of a beautiful woman
 
Words lying in the gutter
 
Words creeping down dark night alleys
 
Words blowing down empty Sunday streets like trash
 
Words wrapped up like a gift
 
Words inscribed on the top of a mountain
 
Words flowing like a river through a valley
 
Words in the endless azure sky
 
Words in the music of the spheres
 
Words written on water
 
Words on the shoreline at low tide
 
Words in the song of a mockingbird
 
Words in the cryptic squawk of a raven
 
Words in the intricate geometry of a spider`s web
 
Words on a computer screen drifting through the matrix
 
Words laid out on emerald-green grass
 
Words like wind through the trees
 
Words fluttering like the wings of a butterfly
 
Words on the petals of a rare, blue flower
 
Words in the sunlight glistening through a
 
morning dew drop on a blade of grass
 
Words glittering on a quiet lake
 
Words falling down like a gentle rain
 
Words sparkling like distant stars
 
Words hanging from the corner of a crescent moon
 
 
I AM THESE WORDS
 
these words whispering in the dark of night
 
these words softly spoken in a lonely room at the edge of the world
 
 
And now,
 
these words come to you
 
across space and time…
 
 
They`re yours…
 
 
 
 
 
Tom Brooks    THB3  
Miyota, Japan  11/20/12
 
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