There is an animal that crosses the void
It’s path is not straight
It’s nose is it’s beacon
It knows and is not afraid
And justifiably conversely
Afraid when it does not know
Just like every other
Living organism.
It crosses the void
And stares into the eye of darkness
Tangled with streams of light
That make depth hard to perceive
For it is glorious, this darkness;
The heart of a wild breath
Beats strong in the shaking embers of life.
Tag: stream
Changes (day 2864)
Fires woke and excited the beast
Roaring in a blaze.
Night curling around dark poles
Eyes intently gazed.
Lips so pure; an Angel descended
Lightly touching down
Afraid of nothing, no need to be
As day broke all around.
Visions of a playful glen
Peaceful animals, babbling stream
Walking with a certain gait
Midsummer’s healthiest dream.
Cold Stream (day 2792)
When the wind blew at my door
There I was standing tall
I saw the drifts of snow gather
I heard the poplars clack together
And deep within my cooling heart
I heard a groan so vivid
It symbolized the burden laid
At the foot of my days toil
It symbolized ice cold water
Gathered at the stream
And every step upon
Frozen soil with a cold shovel
It symbolized the sweat that broke
Each sinew in my back
To which I closed my eyes tightly
Forehead resting on the window
Wind blowing at my door
River in My Bloodstream (day 2413)
Listen to the raindrops
Finding my way home
A whisper in the darkness
Memory now long gone
Can’t listen to the rhythm
Rabbits in my ears
Folding up our broken stream
Holding out my hands
River in my bloodstream
Paddling my way home
Setting out my darkness
I grew up here again
Swimming out past midstream
Dagger in my plan
Rugged from the north land
Leaving there my heartbeat
Stream rev. Antique House Café (day 2382)
I am learning softness,
Not reflections divine.
Hearing words missing;
Kindness shared in
Passing time.
Shadows sharing my subtlety
Working my antiques
Flowing warmly about
My shifting stream.
Alberta (day 2294)
Alberta, I’ll be seeing you again
A hundred days of traveling
And your straight lines take me home
Past the Rockies and badlands
Let me feel you go
Highway I drive with you in mind
Takes me longer in your thundering hips
Alberta, I’ll be seeing you again
I’ll be tasting your water down a stream so cold
I’ll be passing your elk with a yearning I’ll miss
Past a lover I’m really not going to call
And city signs I don’t call home anymore
Alberta, I’ll be seeing you again.
Waking Moments (day 2187)
Solid air
Colliding with my waking moments
Fleeting and palpable
And shifting listlessly through
Mountain streams and alpine trees
And rocky breezes and sunlit dreams.
My held breath seems to remember
What was once an immensity,
So unfathomable to each peculiar life form
– Gliding restlessly upon the surface of dreamscaped imagination –
Yet so identifiably palpable
With my very eyes closed
Facing towards the source of my waking moments
To believe in a word left unspoken.
Ode to a Valley (day 1764)
If I were an eagle
I’d be here, soaring free
Sweeping through your narrows
Upon gusts that never slow.
And if I were a rain cloud
I’d pass by every time
To feed this valley floor with
Water, for to see you forever full.
And if I were a hungry bear
I’d find my way to you
To feed upon your wild berries
And fish upon your stream.
And if I were forever wiggling
My white tail, bounding free,
I’d seek your meadow pasture
To fill my belly overflow.
New Positions in Old Lands (day 913)
Wilting tulips peeking out between
Tufts of Kentucky blue
Old fruits in decomposed remains
Soiling nurtures death
Sprawled timelessly, endlessly
Vacant amongst giants
Sit cozy cottages
Squished and disheartened
Grave-ly/like plowed
Widened and trimmed
Single track adventure path turned
Paved mountainous road
Rounded and tied
Bales of hay
Feeding quarter horses on
Four wheels with exhaust
Life stream in valleys floor
Where abundant game roam
Cement barricades trapping
Forever more… dam
Fresh Scent (day 764)
My feet, stripped and bare
Cooling in the fresh mountain stream
Two dogs about me
Shaking away the fresh feeling
Water, licking my shins
And getting colder
Fresh scent of the familiar
Cloves and horse shit
But it’s summer
And this is the stuff that feels good