What is your weather?
So delicate and sure
Sentinal of harvest.
What once glowed gold
Now delicately so tender,
Brown and wilted;
Seeds like rain
Fall from your mane
In one breath of wind
Shaken your stand.
Of all the ancient history
Stored in your very seed,
How does each season
Keep bringing you to me?
So that our fields can grow
Yellow in the fond sun,
So that our vase can be
Filled up with royal thee.
Forgive this tender Earth
It has been here a while
Surfacing each destruct
With an ancient iron will
Of I can heal this, too.
Bid not darkening rain clouds
A speedy adieu,
Nor slithering worms
A much deeper tunnel.
No, each, just as meaningless
Stretches on deeper, meaningful
Just as horizons – hidden –
Become forgotten
To those who sleep.
Just there, as lightening strikes
Portal to Heaven’s true cataclysm
Shall sit a tiger
Size beyond what can be thought
Reconciling each footstep
Weaving through spoiled badlands
That shall refund Earth its omen
As raindrops to recover.
There then stands
What growth will always achieve
A watering hold for true survivors
And a river towards a great sea.
Today I choose full love
That grapples at my conscious edges
My error code
Tumbling down dark mode numbered lines,
Plainly and painfully
Guarding my thought patterns
That lead me away from full love
Which I choose to keep today
In my basket of offline organics
Springing to life within me.
Take my visual fragments
And place them at the foot
Of an old chedi,
For I don’t want my queues
To scatter my own thoughts
Like a back alley
I’ve stood for too long admiring.
Take my meaning
And lessen it’s grip
For it crawls
And has not yet learned
The intricacies of
Falling and getting up,
Though these scuffed knees
Have surely tried
Against the pain.
Hold my hand and remember
That I’m not here for a long time,
This shall become dust
And my subscriptions shall expire
Like organics back to earth,
Like music into silence
For it is without question
That life surely begets death.
Wish for the flowing
The guiding principle
Flourishing wildly
Over stones and through reeds.
Look for the budding
The guide, the gift
Expressing itself
Throughout, within.
Feel as it builds
Coming about
Not lost in abundance
Welcomed as one.
When I take a moment to look
Into your being I see
What nothing can explain to me
Wonder and serenity
For lost in your movements
Reflecting in your highlights
I see the ocean I’ve ever swam
The snake I’ve ever charmed
Curled right here, next to me
To lose a moment to memory
Galaxy and the Sea.
I am looking for this.
All of my efforts and truths
Are running in parallel with my actions.
I am calling to my inner self,
Feeling my bones rumble
At each swing I make,
Splitting my observations into fragments
That live long in the hearts of men
Who come and sit and talk.
Yet this action has no idle,
It bears resemblance to sweat
Breaking the cloth in toil,
For when the sun rises in the East,
Each drop of frost rises
Like the man I am looking for.
It’s snow falling
To the ground
Big and little flakes
Catching my eyes
Falling effortlessly
Whimsically
And then disappearing
Into the great white
That’s been slowly descending
Upon the green
And varying degrees
Of yellowing decay
We loved in Autumn.
The end is not the end
We think we know it is;
Skinny knees lost in the breeze
Flowing through the heart.
– An awful start –
– And dust came –
Into the very spot
I had come to like so well,
And a special stop
To regain what remains…
For it is not the end,
For it is never in the end!
Just a different start
To revive this believing heart.
Let me fall away
– Snowflake from the sky –
For my hallow has torn
What breath that once bellowed
From the depths
Of my heavy soul.
I will wash here
To embrace such a feeling
That can resemble
My reflections
That have become shattered,
And here I have bent
To account for the
Mistakes I have made.
