Turn the Page (day 970)

Today my wings fell off
Gravity took them from me
Curling and twisting the whole way down
Smashing as they hit the ground

For a moment I stood there
Dumbstruck
Unaware where life will lead
Unsure how life can continue

I bound what was left of my wings
Like one would a broken toy
Desperately holding onto memories
Avoiding change

My tail between my legs
I moped on, off into my distance
One mixed between here and there
A mirage straddling the line

Written Down the Back of my Neck (day 934)

Lines have been written down the back of my neck
Ancient scrolls, unintelligible
In a language spoken when men and women
Lived together in deep respect and love

My throat has begun to burn
The ink has started to bleed
Where once was smooth innocence
Crawling with anticipation of the turning times

Return to a fantasia built upon sorcery
Filled with myth so blood-soaked and deep
Memories flood the virgin landscape
And the Oracle speaks once again

With The Eagle (day 928)

The Eagle flies with me tonight
Around tall lean trees
The anger of cold winds
Flexing thunder in eyes of darkness
With whispers lightly tossed with Zeus’s talons

And I – with my cry – let fall great prey
Great beasts of ancient lineage
Who scream loud
When I soar near

I am gliding through torrents tonight
With the Eagle by my side

The Sapling and I (day 919)

Windy meadows that long ago
Were stripped of all their life:
Elegant firs, long needled pine
And birch that peels around.

They’ve all been reaped
Into a heap;
Grinding and turning
Paving and spreading
Strip malls and sidewalks.

All in the name of progress.
In belief of and for
Settlers heading west.

But where was I at these round tables
Where was my voice of reason?
Was I asked for my steady thoughts
To protect our mother’s children?

For now I am to blame.
Here to suffer
To pull at breath and
Leave my anguish at the door;
Kick off my factory shoes,
Step into my factory warmth,
And yawn my factory toil.

I am not anymore the savior sun;
A strong branch upon a tree
Deep within the forest.

But I am a sapling reaching up
Into the sky above.
A sign of life, natures life:
An orb of sweet Gaia

2013.05.09 - Prince George Spring (63 of 100)

Crippling Romance With Stars (day 856)

I can see the stars when I close my eyes
Time flickers back to a time in space
Where long grass tickled cold toes and exposed shins
Walking lackadaisically over uneven ground
Arm in arm, enjoying the moment fully
Fuzzy groups of dancing nymphs
Flirting with mavens of the night
Desire spreading thick
Anticipating cool morning fog
Loud vibrations floating through nights air..

I can smell the essence there that night
Palpable reckoning, subtle beckoning
Tentative but raw passion driving

It wasn’t infused delusion crippling my senses
It was more romantic than that

Galaxy Spins (day 849)

Join me as we sweep the shores of life
Fill our thoughts with the echoing moonlight
Walking its way along the banks of serenity

Hold my hand as we swim the warm fall water
Echoing through surrounding mountains
Full of heaven on earth, of sweet Gaia
Sparing her nectar amongst our naked bodies

Share with me as I delight in the stars
Dreams forever entangling our horoscopes
Tightly as the galaxy spins us ’round

Surrender as we bolden our destiny
Enriching its gay step with fruitful love
Eternities gates mobile as we proceed
Into bliss known to all as rapture

And All This For You (day 836)

Shift with me, a while
As we waltz down this hall

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

I do not guess with my moments
Grass and trees tell me rocks

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

And long earth has forever shone
Sweet Gaia’s cuddling sun

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

Shadows fill in the blanks
For eyes that carry onward; hope

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

I’m a god damn coward but
I’ve shared this bit with you

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

Old English Accent (day 782)

It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Thus like:

Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown

And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew

North Thompson Field of Hay