This is not a trail of broken hearts;
Fallen crimson rose petals
Reminding me of each cycle
Lost and reborn
Sun and moon dance.
This is a ripening and maturing
A ferment and bottle conditioned
Led by the golden tears
Of Springs fresh showers.
A frosty morning
With birds calling from branches
Yet bearing,
And a sly cat whispering:
Good day Sir, come along.
I am drained of life
Though calming gray Moon
Shines full into my vision.
My mornings wake
With such vast opportunity
Yet I slouch my way
Into an odyssey;
Blurring noises
From Nature’s highway
Busy outside my open window.
This tea alerts me
It brings my senses
Towards the front of my tongue
So that I can find my voice
Rescued from the deep depths
Of a tortuous night.
And here, upon my tongue
A caress felt within my memory
Time spent in my youth
Unabided,
For Spring spirit in Summer Sun
Reaches no Plymouth too soon,
And this warm milk and honey
Resting on my lips
Shall be enveloped by
Moon and by Sun.
She was a vision
I couldn’t rid my mind
Took a walk around
Saw her everywhere
Made her up a gift
Took it from my heart
Couldn’t find her again
She had deserted me
So I climbed the mountain
Took a great survey
Spoke two words in peace
With my Eagle soul
Clear as day I run
Into the meadow field
Far below my heart
In sweet dew drops
Never rush the heart
She was my very earth
Spring and summer came
Filling me up again.
(part IX)
A cloud lifted
And Spring was sprung
The children sang
And the dogs were frisky
With little bones
Their owners tossed them
Who they themselves
Had picked till dry.
But there was something different
Than usual
Something awry.
At first it was hard to notice
But then people began
To notice it more and more
Until it became
A normal cultural habit
Based on Fear in their hearts.
(part XI)
This cannot continue for too long
An ending shall develop
To which all will lapse from
And then reborn
Like Spring of an ancient rhythm
Moment in time
Reflecting on the sweet sound
Of a trickling creek
Joined by two trails
That are worn by wild game.
Let the hearts of ten thousand warriors
Fighting for their very food
Fill your glowing heart
And bring you the saintly touch
To heal every broken wound.
Let the hearts of a Spring sparrow
Be the outlook worn upon your sleeve
Bringing your every breath a song
That coos you into peace.
Let the heart of an aging grandpa
Fill your very depths
So that every step you take forth
Is wisdom in every touch
And a smile so deep it resonates
Like the crystal vases on the shelf
That hold a memory so strong
It’s a smile upon your face.
For what used to be technology
– Figments of built up society –
Has fallen down,
By our own will
Freedom seems such a funny phrase.
But then to look
Upon the birds
Returning from the South,
Weaving and spinning
Joyeous beginning
Of Spring is in the air.
All could change
All can change
Of our built up digital world:
Roads and electric poles,
City sidewalks set ablaze,
Consumption tracks
Buried deep
In plastic bags we reap.
But then to look
Just look at the greening abound!
See the buds popping
See grass growing
Watch as Sun warms the earth.
For what should not
Like the greens in Spring
Vines creeping
Up the sides of your leg
Moss involved in lineage.
Memory was lost
With blue-black baskets
That bobbed unevenly
About hands of ancient grain
Settling into the hallows.
And River flowed
With anonymous voices
That reached the trees
And clouds, boulders, and lichen,
And touched the lips
Of each those lost.
When the wild worlds awoke
A thunderous cackling was heard
Mystics remained calm
But civilians, no they ruptured
Into the great wide open hands
Of the Gods they revered.
Some, well, some squandered their money
Buying useless diplomas and
Servitude obligations.
Some fell to darkness with devices
Emitting radioactive lights
And chaotic beeping.
Some fell into wildness
Like the river in Spring
Bounding over freshly fallen trees
And moss so thick
It became a cloak for their own dreams.
There was no end promised
To the deafening roar,
No scientific projection
Or mathematical calculation
That could speak for the Gods
Who had thus become maddened.
And in the end,
Well, there was no end
For it was never signaled,
Never announced over loudspeaker
Like each modern God so famed to do,
It was subtle, and thus remained unchanged.
It was the civilians
Who had changed, too busy caught up
To notice that they had changed
And what they had changed for
Had long since been gone away.
I am a glowing ember
A garden of love
Transposed into light
Fixating on your mind
And gently reminding you
How the sun rises every day
And each Spring
How the blossoms erupt
And the bees return
To bring you honey.
