WHERE QUIET WALKS ALONE

Poetry
is my pause
between
misplaced minutes
and momentary memories.

Split in two,
like a cell
in a mitotic phase,
a half-extinguished thought
invents another thought,
until an image,
a sensory impression,
reveals
an invisible face
that no one
in the world
can see,
but me.

Mellifluous,
in the middle
of a phrase
or at the beginning
of an ending,
words,
like the music
of the tide,
take me to you
with the highs
and lows
of every note,
of every ebb
that ever flowed.

We go on and on,
forever and always,
to meet in silence
where love lives
and where quiet
walks alone.

© JOHN PISCATELLA