Filled With Stars (day 2423)

Why is it we lose our way
When the light’s turned off
And the song’s the same.
When the lion roars
It knows its call,
So our lonely nights
They are filled with stars.

When we have a chance
Do we raise our voice?
Do we stand up tall
And right our wrong?
Do we listen to our memories?
Our inner voice
That knows the stars.

There are signs for us
That show our way,
Shining as they are
So our souls can see.
They light our path
In our darkest hour,
So begin today
Watch for those stars.

Good Nights (day 2420)

I watch a boy my size who is
Coming through the door.
He’s got himself a bundle of
Leather bound books in hand.
I asked him if he read much Cohen
He said it was a bore.
Just like that, my first impression
Was shot out to the moon,
For how could anybody say
Cohen wasn’t much to implore.
I returned to my conversation
With a brown eyed Lady-more.
She had told me about a tale
Where two men sang folk lore,
Now this was it, this was my style
We were on to so much more.
Then I sank into much ease
As she walked me to the store.
Pack of gum, two candy sticks
And a bottle of sweet ale.
Thus my night was set into
A tale of leather soles
Lighting up the cobblestones
Walking the road hand in hand.

Secretely (day 2349)

Secretly I whisper to the eyes that hold but little space for me
An awareness that belongs not to my soul of desire
But to a lost alarm clock beckoning for another hour
A window catches a blinking light somewhere in the horizon
While a cat sadly roams about the hall with a limp it cannot heal
Desolation is a lingering affair amidst night before’s busy streets
Where once fireworks begged for mercy in the air like dragons nightly play
So I shall talk at odd volumes to hear my voice again
Though no memory shall recall the words that secretly danced
Amidst uneven sidewalks of a forgotten despair.

My Arbutus Tree (day 1789)

I’ve wasted the jewels of my heart
On my arbutus tree, left
As bark peels my solemn movements
Into a windy road
Lightly misting with a dark mystery
Of dusk setting in
After a long day traveled.
I cannot see for the light,
I cannot hear for the wind,
I cannot feel for my fingers
Have started to scratch too idle
At my knees, left
So bare of a kind woman’s touch
And settled on my mind
With gnarled wisdom in the spine
Of my arbutus tree.

Into a Hole, A-ho (day 1745)

I wonder, pacing back and forth in the middle of light,
Is there something that’s become thus turbulent undertow?
Have I designed such fit for feet of strangers?

Long walks alone in a forest captures my heart,
Where has thy sweet sun crept away to? I ask in earnest to nodding nuances,
But no answers come back, though I implore twice for free.

Meanwhile slow approaching whisps sling past in a haze of unkempt mystery
Shrouded in man-made asphalt that collects at its side big puddles
For jumping.

And yet my friends among the silence who stand motionlessly absorbent
Carry weight of history so thickly my stomach begins to grumble,
My breath begins to abate me, and a slow tear finds its way into a hole.

So my wandering takes me back to a place I’ve always been
A question that’s never left the tips of my heart-hole that resists coldness
Keeping my toes so at night but warming my soul into abundantly undone.

Vancouver Island Victoria Port Renfrew Trestle - Ned Tobin

Sun of Gold (day 1719)

I cannot see my emptiness
I cannot see my soul
I’ve lost the world
And settling in
I’ve begun to just let go
But pity thou
Who thinketh they
Can forge a path of light
With only fangs
Set for one
Darkness to all else
So can I see
Or do I fret
About yesterday’s chance
If I, for one
Could see this choice:
Empty my sun of gold