This Vessel (day 2559)

I’ve grown fond of tripping over ropes as I lean forward at the rail upon this mighty ship.
My hair blows into my face and it feels good letting go,
Though each time I rummage for more hope
I feel the wind crying at me as if I have always forgotten to say goodnight to it.
But I havent!
I whisper my serenity prayer each night I lay awake in bed,
And count the trees bending under the weight of their new leaves blowing to and fro.
I am forgetful, so I cannot be perfect.
But I plan my next voyage with this ship the vessel that will take me there,
Which makes me smile as my hand rummages through a few frayed strands that tell me stories.

Flames in Your Eyes (day 2447)

C. A
I’m not saying to forget
F. C
To find someone new
C. A
I’m not here to remind you
F. C
That life isn’t true
F(dgbe). C
I’m not trying to be angry
G. C
Let the moon be blue

A. F
When the whirlwind comes
G. C
Let it run
A. C
When the skies of darkness
G. A. F. C. G. C
Are flames in your eyes

You have found me here
A few towns away
Not a stone’s throw
But a move down the line
F(dgbe). C
With you I belong
G C
Chair by your side

Can the ghosts we’ve seen
Be the lives we’ve had
When lives we’re having
Keep us on the move
F(dgbe). C
With wind in our face
G C
For we dance all night

Ode to Cactii (day 2440)

Your prickly spine
Prickles my spine
In a rush against the senses
How can nature be so seamless
So soothing in times of need
Yet out of her
Births aggressive opposition
Protection in sharply fine armory
One that stops each passerby
In awe and reverie
Looking on to comprehend
How such can exist amidst the sun
Amidst a sea of warm winds
And lizards who lazily
Pass by taking caution
Yet dare not touch nor approach too close
Respecting the sentinel
Standing tall, standing strong
And playing its role
In nature, steady,
Sandy roots and resevoir.

Life of a Leaf (day 2408)

I’ve grown accustomed to leaves turning my memories from fresh to curled, a well understood paradox that changes the tide so romantically it hurts like the small spots beside the bulging veins growing inside.

My smile has grown lines, my heart has extended its beats, my hearing has begun to dance with angels upon the dead leaves blowing along the roughly trampled ground – are these our memories we have yet to experience, or have they been forgotten and left to dissolve into earth?

So I crouch down low and embrace the softly blowing wind that helps me to see my passing time I used to think I loved, I used to want to love, so here I’m hurting from spatial infrequencies that cup my involuntary spasms from underneath the table and remind me to forget to itch the pain.

Does this leaf know it crumbles within my palm so slowly softly? Did it reach for me in a pure moment of thought, expecting my return upon amber wings of a sun soaked day like an emotional Prometheus on a personal mission.

Then, like the ashes of memories crumbling in scaled hands of our Phoenix, so too shall sun rise again over the horizon of a small family farm to bring with it a wet spring full of insight and gratitude that runs the width and depth of a heart shaped leaf settling softly upon a well worn path of insight.