my song, my message

my song is poetry
my words are me

i sometimes see
the mystery
and i'm amazed

i sometimes read
the other lines
and i'm confused

wireless signals lost
out of network quality
voice transmission from
the other side of the moon

maybe not ours but that
of another planet in some
other solar system out there
so lonely with no humans to
stomp around and get the
place dirty.

and what do i know of
life or any of the
other words that
may or may not
begin as such.

poet archeologists
will peel these lines
back layer after layer
in latter years after
the tears have long
since dried and
evaporated and
time remembers
to beat again,
to tick again.

hello world?

hello you.

hello me.

hello maybe.

may be a or an
hello - does cold
play really sing a
song called yellow?

and back to the etymologists
of emotions from the future
generations - will they
understand? will they
remember? will it
really matter
at that
point?

i point -
over there!
over there!
see it!
quick!
look!
over there!

fleeting glimpses
i've had before
but this time
it's finally
coming into
focus.

and the smudged lense
(the glass that captures
the essence of the moment
with light and ones and zeros)
that lense can't hide the beauty
i see in the world.

the words pour forth.

and it's good.

maybe for me.

the message?
it's a good one.