Patches of gauze, white healing clouds
move against the dark empyrean
maroon night, wounds of old pain
beyond light, behind the day, roll
grind between earth and sky, milled
until you die. No! turn this negativity
around, send out reconnaissance
reconnoiter the dawn, before you go
down the drain, take a new look
re-evaluate with intelligence, redeploy
your injuries of heart into a long career of art.
Jan G. Otterstrom F. 12/02/2012
Somewhere over the Atlantic.