the familiar guides <br /> fall silent <br />as the air around <br /> us changes <br />and i'm questioning <br /> so much silently <br />as unseen giants <br /> surround me <br />i feel weightless, floating <br /> yet grounded <br />calm and centrifugal amidst <br /> determined positions <br />and i ask them <br /> no questions <br />but the unspoken is <br /> aware inside of me <br />i feel that the slightest <br /> tremble of my desire <br />could cause these giants <br /> to turn into stone <br />and come crashing <br /> down on me <br />in one hundred million <br /> heavy pieces <br /> <br />(march 2010, new orleans, la, usa)<br /><br />Thomas Quentin Sims<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-hundred-million-heavy-pieces/
