Free Thought: In Erratis Veritas

Free Thought, versificative style.

(come sit with me)
beneath this
poison-apple tree
in the shade and hidden
from the inquisitive
rays of the sun

this is music, this dance
of ours
this surprising uprising of energy

these are dreams
these half thoughts
and half words
half spoken half sung
dreams are all about
doing things by halves
except when they're not
xeno's oneironautical paradox;
it's not over until we wake up.
we are not merely figments of our own imaginations
with our secret smiles
and smiling lies
inquisitive perfection
bright as the sun
(i promise)

we
descend
so
beautifully
but the pain is in
the ascension;
once we fall, we'll never
have another chance to fly

I'm relearning my nouns
rediscovering the verb:
to do
to be
to float unheavy,
weightless
to fall

we must stand, first, before we can
walk
run
fly
we must plant our feet in the earth
and once the earth is ours
it will dance with us

History repeats, in the sound
of music echoing through a car
on roads that wist a particular
destination:
no place, at all.
The songs are the same, if the voices are different
they are
no less precious for all their relative newness

there is truth in the typos
if you can see it
in erratis veritas
only properly declined
politely rejected or
downwardly inclined?
the words are the faultlines
and if we're not careful
they'll trip us all
(how do we say "I love you"
in words that do not hurt?)
or are the words sacrosanct
in their flaws
with divine
providence granted
to catch us in their claws?
if so, I'll let myself
be caught
better to be torn apart by words
than drowned to death in silence

or so I tell myself
as I sit quietly
and wait for my turn to dream