Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to **********)

When the waves of the everyday crash down like Neptune's fiercest revenge, I escape to your safe corner where freedom is the surprise: freedom to embellish my airy ramblings with art (the sister of poetry) on a stage where we drip honey and agony and preform coronations. And choirs sing and crowns glitter in that freedom, so private in the heyday of my other life out there, that absurd farce of security we were born into and trudge through because we were told to. But here, alive and whirling with ideas shouted out like Gabriel's trumpet, pulsing like midnight avenues and splashed with the colors of who we are at any and every moment we finally meet ourselves, I revel and carouse with words, and it was always all about words. And whatever pigment we douse them with in our dash to personal heavens, in the abandon of who we choose to be, our words are, in the end, in this cherished refuge, painted gold.