Some Already There

when the illusion breaks you
into wellness, there are some
who are already there

anywhere, they’ve come to light,
slow as stars,
simple as oil in clay

you sense the moss within
your eyes
as feet begin their slide
down rocks

sleep rolls its roses
’round in fingers
that crisp as if in fire’s spell

golden clouds whisper
alluring trinities, mysteries mixed
into the mineral knell
of a potter’s wheel, the field outside
rife with sunburnt flags
hoisted toward summer’s windows

under webs that drift across scent
the way air embodies your image
in freedom’s niche

and there, on the plinth of life,
there are some now you notice
who have always, already,
been there


© J. Celan Smith