Whistling (day 1065)

Today there is a sign,
A window of an opening
Whistling softly,
Dragging at my conscience.
I acknowledge it.
I sit cross-legged
To experience its frequencies
Reverberate my lifeline.
This lesson is wordless,
Perched upon low hanging ledges
Of spring’s naked birch trees.
I imagine smoke
Wafting its sacred essence.
And my peace and gratitude
Flows mingling with the wind,
Vibrating to wordless words
Whistling through my conscience.

No Direction Known (day 797)

I am a victim of a cry
I am saddened no desire
Your denial of pleasure
Of finer things in life
Another way

I am a truth without a cause
A burning candle without a wick
When things explode
I am the hole
Absent of memory

I am a lesson never learnt
Beaten into fibrous lush
Browned and featureless
Lost and empty
Homeless

I am the midnight street walking
A single fluorescent light aglow
Long shadows down the road
And no finger prints
Left outdoors

I am not your golden rule
Your constant stream of pleasure
Lollygagging in suns warmth
Straight and narrow
There is no direction known

CaribooHillSnowDay - 20120116 (15 of 22)