©7.25.14 Michael Gregory Jackson

my guitar is speaking, screaming, shouting, 
soaring, flashing speckles and splashes, 
brash tones, spraying shimmering splintered 
shards of sparkling pulsing crystals,
rotating blades, shredding upwards, 
motions and emotions stretching outwards,
ideas surge, accelerate then float freely 
through the multi-hued genre pool…
after trekking over the red hot coals,
the arrival at the end is always way cool,
then suddenly, it all becomes very clear,
when I realize I smile, yeah, it’s not the end,
it's just a turn, bend or inlet or some vast
intriguing place to land, soil to dig in,
discover, uncover, behold the treasure,
embrace the pleasure of diving deep,
here now, we will breathe and expand,
maybe forever, or for just a moment or two.