I’m exhausted underneath
I didn’t expect the gambler
Here I am, an empty hand
Plans for regrowth
For blossoms, for extreme divinity
Reigning down upon the grounds.
I have let grow such vigor,
Wild abandon, wilderness.
I have put it upon the ground,
Walked back ten paces,
Stood aside, silenced myself
And begun to observe
With the patience of a snake
How curious it all looks from here.
Tag: wilderness
Mountain Tops (day 2573)
I roared so fiercely through my being
I shook the mountain tops so high,
Upon which to leave a plateau
For your grace to rest upon.
And like the forest we crossed below,
We screamed of wilderness!
A yell that shook the river’s flow –
Turbulent and rambling froth.
Now the golden lace of sun
Set its throbbing fingers upon
Your back of a leopard’s frame
Which gave way to the universe’s spin.
Trails (day 2551)
Carved my name into bark today
One arc eight hashes deep
Reminding me of wilderness
Trails that remain
Old Man’s Beard covering many trees
Wild roses at the break
Pasture grass running under logs
Needles on the ground
A Chance to Be Faculty and Chief (day 1119)
A valley, like my mind, may look empty on the inside – void of all that makes up matter. Void of all the mass that builds houses and factories and city roads and flower gardens and traffic jams.
For cannot this still matter? I am lost in a wasted land, and the fight challenges my patience along grated edges of wisdom.
Do you hear the sharp bells ringing? Is this the difference that is ringing, or has freedom finally called my name?
The sheath shall sadly fall apart, ragged from too much use like a cocktail napkin at a lipstick party. History shall not scream loudly here. This is not the bitter pages of a non-fiction picture book.
Here we have wrinkled tin garbage cans rolling lifelessly along unkempt lawns of former princes’, former glory holes that believed in a dream. A lifeless dream built on waste management systems and recycling plans.
So I cannot spoil my food anymore. My valley – running deep – is the chance to be faculty and chief. My valley is the early morning breath and the dying chances. My valley is the shortened season and the wilderness.
My valley is me, and I’ve begun to see.