Spruce Story (day 2247)

The old spruce and I sat silently
We shared secrets unspoken
We shared ground softly packed
I looked up and counted to one hundred
Each branch I gave a name
Each name remembered its origin
In the world of seven valleys
I heard ravens nesting
Squirrels chasing
And I felt each limb slowly shake
Watching each needle slowly fall
Tumbling to the palm of my hand
Which rebirthed my blessings
In each moment of doubt
Until I stood where the spruce had stood
And I inhaled deeply as the spruce had inhaled
And I listened as the spruce had listened
And I swayed as the spruce had swayed
Until the seven valleys became my valleys
And my story remained so.

Memory (day 2207)

The day was half over
Filled with drunks and half wits
That slowly dislodged the sane ties
Holding what edges of reason I had together
I flipped the channel
Inhaled deeply
Groaned with anticipation
And slowly leaked what thick blood I had
Into a mason jar
Ready to be placed close
To lost bits of memory
I never knew were gone.

Ode to a Forest Tree (day 2115)

Every step you carry with me
A fragrance wafting so free
Your spine tingles the very clouds
Surrounding me, which I see
Which I love and become one
Of every day a deep inhale
That reminds me of pure ecstasy
A true embrace
A truth I remember and carry home
To set my mind upon the ledge
Of your clear visage.

Cottonwood tree - Ned Tobin

You’re Perfect (day 1958)

When I say you’re perfect
I mean it from the whole of my essence
From my tingling toes
To each breath I excitedly (and deeply) inhale,
From my deepest lost fantasy
To each lightly placed finger tip
That crawls every imagination I’ve got.
Your perfection seeds my stillness
That captures me in your grace.
Your wrong is not a wrong,
Your wrong is effort in my eyes
That nurtures your blossom,
Imagination takes your fancy
And lifts your spirit,
Infecting me like a perfect vision,
A serpent,
A sun rising from the horizon
Inch by inch warming my open eyes
To the miracle of a new day.
Your perfection isn’t in your perfect action,
Or your perfect features,
Or your perfect voice or perfect success,
Your perfection lies within your being.
Your perfection lies within your effort
That dances as you know how to dance
Over obstacles and through conversations,
That listens and speaks and shares and fights
And bruises and hurts and feels and bites.
Perfection is you, not the sum of your doings,
It stays with you as you go,
And returns again tomorrow,
It follows you into your messiest of days
And shadows you as you run.
When I say that you’re perfect,
It doesn’t hinge on how you treat me
Or what you bring me as a gift,
It doesn’t depend on your generosity
Or how close you hold my hand,
No, I mean it without you even knowing me
And I mean it as you walk upon your path,
I mean it as you say goodbye
And wave me our last kiss.

lisa-2

Exist Between (day 1861)

Where is this spot that exists between dream and reality
The viscerally imaginative soft stuff
That shakes shaggy ground free of complaints
And sunsets clear morning’s dew
From cobwebs shining as if testing new approaches
To similar corners, similar filters, similar dreams
That sit still and recoil while inhale meets exhale
And spring meets autumn
And one meets two
And a shoe gets worn through by impermanence of space
That’s always been growing up and chopped down
And eaten and fed and counted and weighed
And slotted into a spreadsheet marked with scales
Ranging from zero to ten with a save button
That creates multiple redundancies.
When the only request is for a tiny piece of convenience
For just one moment.
And in a flash,
With feet firmly planted securely on uneven ground
And hands held out in wide Namaskar to this beautiful world
A little droplet of rain shall fall perfectly
Upon a freckled upturned nose holding thoughts
Of a sunny day and all the rays of life shall shine down
In abundant warmth like a ticking clock
Chiming in at every quarter hour.

Exist Between by Ned Tobin

Ode to the Wind (day 1756)

Into my ears did whistle harmony
Not of my mind or in my thoughts
But wind, easy wind to fill me up
With dear, sweet oxygen.
And to my friend I inhaled in
The deepest breaths I could bring
To fill my lungs so full, I smiled.
For my liberty was brought to me
So free my mind, so free my body,
So free my soul to float on to
A cloud, where I’m with you.

photograph of clouds and air on haleakela, maui, hawaii

Love (day 1450)

Love are the whispers that ring in moments of now.
Love is the emptyness filling up an empty row.
Love is in footsteps: heel to toe, heel to toe.
Love is a memory as everything glows.
Love is a little bird whistling as it goes.
Love is a deep inhale, exhale, flow.
Love is inside like soil for to grow.
Love has two arms that dearly bestow.
Love sings a song of abundant jovial.
Love is inside, when all else returns.

image

Landed (day 1243)

Landing in an unaware time
I’ve settled in oh… just fine.
Crawling over loose remains,
Curtains and leggings all have stains.
But breath and love; inhale, exhale,
Lifeline matters align each gale,
Upward lifting passages prevail
Eyes wide upon this afternoon sail.