Lucky Day

#Poem – Lucky Day

What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music.
Soren Kierkegaard

I smell something in the air.
It’s sweet and bitter at the same time.
There’s a deep familiarity
And a vapid strangeness about it.

Mundane and particularLucky Day
In it’s essence,
It makes me curious to pursue it
To it’s source.

It’s not the neighbor’s wood fire
Or the dog’s breath.
Those are usual culprits for smells
But not the initiators of this
Enchanting, attractive one.

Perhaps I need to stop trying to
Sniff it out.
I’m not sure that it’s sniffable at all.

Perhaps it’s the start of something new:
A shift into a totally different mindset
Or a tangent that becomes the new paradigm.

Perhaps it’s not anything on the outside.
It’s a turbulence inside that’s firing up,
Creating itself all over again;
Fierce enough to make it’s way
And calm enough to slip by unnoticed
By some.

Yes: I smell, feel, sense it.
And it’s real as anything.

~ by Stan Stewart

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