Throat of Life (day 2847)

Wind is howling through this house
Like inescapable tombs of our past
Flesh biting flesh
Wrapped with fabric so dusty it crumbles.

Yet in open webs I can still see through
Nostalgia hits an ancient bone
That even her subtle breath of wind
Finds it hard to escape duty of.

Slowly eyelids close as raspy sun strokes,
A dying ember reminds us each
That our throat of life
Calms the day’s very nature.

At the Margin (day 2842)

It is destruction that has collapsed
Sure it should seem rather redundant
But it was not as it should be
For there were no golden melodies
No silent tigers awaiting at the margin
Long arching stems of tropical plants
Waving ever so slightly in afternoon rain
Slipping noiselessly down the bank
Of misunderstood’s miss-planned and misspent
Margins gone away.

No Words (day 2839)

Did you listen when I spoke no words?
I could hardly lean to take flight
Soar away, hide away
Aloof my trail ablaze.

I woke up from a foggy bliss
Tended to my flock,
Stepped into a day of glass
Dew upon my shoe.

When I carried over my heart,
Sealed with each singing bird’s note,
T’was then I had no words to share
No sound to match such pure delight.

At the Gates (day 2834)

For it was not the forgotten
The lost
Emancipated yet still beyond.
It cried in open grace
As ancient wisdom
Ran down it’s thriving face.
Ritual abided;
Nature presided.
Delicacy tingled
Down worthy veins
And touched what fettered lines
Could only whisper.
There it was;
Sunlight becoming
Brave, luminous, potent,
Crying for all that’s been lost
Yet standing tall
At the gates of judgement.

Thinning (day 2832)

At once I thundered through the forest
Chapter to my name
Dust had neither settled nor swept
Alarm for every cocoon
Axe in one hand, saw the other
Limbs begone, forever cleared
Forest to grow strong and free
And let live as can live
Diversity amidst the settlers
Forgive the intrusion
I am to be human.

Joy of Life (day 2827)

What windows open up my mind
To whom I speak so soft?
What vision is, I cannot say..
For laughter washes all
Into a valley of design,
Making each symbol remain the same.
Seeds of which photosynthesize,
Cracks amidst the soil,
Teeth so eagerly chattering,
Rain so vibrantly,
Gaia, she knows all secret things
Our eyes are not our only sense
Oh Joy! Oh Life!
Cometh my way.

Oak Leaves (day 2820)

It is a problem,
For I have not found it here yet.
Spires have taken my holiness
Unaccounted for,
Untrained,
Un-restricted.
Like a dove in flight,
But without regret.
There shall be no more passion,
No more emotional choices.
So it lays thus, solid and lifeless,
Awaiting a deep agony,
A lifeless sympathy,
That shall agree with
No more of this world
And of its gains.
Floundered,
Spinning into earth
Yet leaving marks: vivid,
As the Oak leaf stays
Through Winter.