You so wild.
I behold you like a spectacle of fireworks in the distance,
or a kite doing its intricate dance on the wind waves.
or do I?
Perhaps I follow you
and do my own dance on wind waves
and occasionally graze your sphere.
And there are other times when
I just feel you hold me.
Embrace me, Jazzman.
Contain me and keep me safe
from my own tempestuous travels.
My own tumult.
Left all on my own,
I fly out of control until I crash.
I want you to be my anchor.
I do not.
What a waste of you
that would be.
My true anchor
is my very own breath.
My own heartbeat.
The gravitational pull of the earth.
And so what are you, Jazzman?
You are my harbor and my travelling companion.
My haven and my muse.
Your arms envelop and enclose me—
so stormy, flighty, rakish and unprotected.
Please tell me Jazzman,
How can I be so big and so small all at once?
to be held,
safe for a moment,
by one who knows the necessity,
the inevitability and
the exquisite adventures of the voyage.