Shutter of your Mind -Shape Poetry(wk12)

Shutter of Your Mind
Sunset sinking.  Quick, you look for your camera
and return to find its too late. It’s gone.  The earth has tilted just beyond the
sun's reach.  Seize your moment.  Film with your eyes.  No camera can capture such a
vast moment of clarity, no snapshot can remember the wind, how the tips of your hair prick your cheek, how you wiped it from your face with the back of your wrist, how your eyes were full of childlike curiosity, how

ocean

and

fire

can stand in the same sky without putting each other out,
how they can mix but still remain separate,
for a moment,
hanging
there in the sky.  Then, in mere seconds,
the blue wins the battle. 

Fingers
s  t  r  e  t  c  h
toward to the heavens, though trees remain planted,
blending in with the blackness of night.

No portrait can portray the five year old child pointing to the horizon,
"look mommy, look at the sky, God paints pretty pictures." 

If you look at the studio in the sky.
If you don't go after the camera,
you just might see something magnificent. 

And if you look hard enough, feel the wind, smell the fire from burning leaves, feel the last rays of warmth on your skin, maybe, just maybe, your mind will take its own picture and in the dark times, asleep, distant from the one sleeping beside you, there will be this gift of Caribbean blue and tangerine, smoke and wind stored in your mind's scrapbook, a gift to you from the universe
to remind you to keep open the shutter of your mind, to consider that you really
do have a place here on this earth. 
In this universe,
you
are the camera.

Above version done when I had access to Microsoft Word.  Below is the original shape.

Shutter of Your Mind

Sunset sinking.  Quick,
you look for your camera and return
to find its too late.Its gone.  The earth has tilted just
beyond the sun's reach.  Seize your moment.  Film with your eyes. 
No camera can capture such a vast moment of clarity, to snapshot can
remember the wind, how the tips of your hair prick your cheek, how you
wiped it from your face with the back of your wrist, how your eyes were full
of childlike curiosity, how ocean and fire can stand in the same sky without putting
each other out, how they can mix but still remain separate, for a moment, hanging there
in the sky. Then, in mere seconds, the blue wins the battle.  Fingers stretch toward to the
heavens, though trees remain planted, blending in with the blackness of night.  No portrait
can portray the five year old child pointing to the horizon, "look mommy, look at the sky,
God paints pretty pictures."  If you look at the studio in the sky.  If you don't go after the camera, you just might see
something magnificent.  And if you look hard enough, feel the wind, smell the fire from burning leaves, feel the last
rays of warmth on your skin, maybe, just maybe, your mind will take its own picture and in the dark times, asleep,
distant from the one sleeping beside you, there will be this gift of Caribbean blue and tangerine, smoke and wind
stored in your mind's scrapbook, a gift to you from the universe to remind you to keep open the shutter of your mind,
to consider that you really do have a place here on this earth.  In this universe, you are the camera.

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