A Moment

A lonely pilot, 1944.
A tent - there’s music,
momentary peace,
awaiting what is to come.

Today, beauty creates beauty,
a mind and arm and hand at one with grace -
a story-vision flowing from some inner source

Somewhere in between
long ago and now,
my friend stands next to me,
far away -
remembering?

“I’ll be Seeing You”
the singer promised,
but she was far away,
where he’d driven her.
yet she sang to him,
sang to me.

The sound of a plane,
competes with the song -
reminding us
of where we are,
or where we are pretending to be,
of when we are pretending to be,
or what we are pretending to be -
a pilot training - waiting, waiting, waiting -
remembering.

I am lost, yet loving the mystery
of what is real and now and what was
or will be,
of being,
having been,
and only imagined
yet all, right now,
are real.

Her brush strokes, her grace, her vision continue -
flowing from her eyes and mind and appearing on the canvas
as though the image already knows what it is and should become.

The song ends.

The moment remains, but with new perspective.
Image among image, tactile on the wall,
mirrored and layered inside me,
being born inside her.

Imagine, image –
she creates one,
I create another -
from the song, from her vision,
from memories.
The song does not end.
The song begins anew,
unheard by anyone before.

Let it grow and live
again and again -
another image
containing an image of images -
past, present, future,
real, imagined, intertwined
layer on layer -
the image reality
and reality an image,
sharing the moment

I’ll be seeing you...