I don’t quite remember the day that it happened
But two by two they fell
Two by two the large trees that had circled my soul
Started thundering and crashing and heaving and falling.
And I looked up.
I craned my neck and looked at the new gap
Projecting sunlight this way and that,
Streaming little bits of another world
And catching particulate matter suspended in mid air.
My footsteps stopped.
My heart beat as my ears slowly identified the noises
I had so tirelessly huffed away,
Keeping a pace to get somewhere I didn’t know
And didn’t even have a reason to get to there.
So I stopped.
As it all came crashing down and whispers screamed louder,
As honeysuckles sprouted and ivy reached,
As leaves crunched and blossoms bloomed I stopped,
And that’s when I settled in.
Tag: sunlight
Forecast (day 1646)
This is the forecast
Slipped on the sunlight
And landed on a wave.
We carried emotions
In rainy weather shadows
And in half of a heartbeat
Hope came and held up a chance.
Secrets were too softly;
Heartache came too lightly;
If I was a preacher I’d have
Called the kids all home.
Rusty (day 1546)
I put into words the last drops of sunlight
That left my supine soul wandering alone
Face up on an old two-track dirt road
By a rusty water reservoir
Near the outskirts of town.
For me, I couldn’t understand the capacity
Of one single ray of sunshine
That drifted on from that barren landscape
Of my calmly coiled fingers.
I drew a large circle encircling my two nipples
Nearly touching my navel
– Which had the mark of an ancient blood line –
In order to continue calculating
My numbing heartbeat’s instinct
That would lead me from this enclosing darkness
Into a fiery nether region
I had witnessed during a tremor.
Ashram Day 9 (day 1412)
A call, like an answer
Came forth beyond belief,
Where hardly a shout
Had been landed and free.
Yet here was sunlight
Witnessing holiday ease,
And two strangled strangers
Carefully held onto the breeze.
A Proper Man’s Time (day 1381)
Darker abstracts of our life
Face open windows
When calms begun once again.
In a proper man’s time
There’s a short road to freedom,
In a proper man’s time
A line’s lost in old wisdom.
Could the full moon retreat life,
Could it catch hold of time?
When the blinds keep a blowin’.
In a proper man’s time
There’s a short road to freedom,
In a proper man’s time
A line’s lost in old wisdom.
Old dog’s been here resting
Against the old wooden door.
Got his head in the sunlight,
Open window no more.
Diamonds (day 1184)
Don’t believe forever ends
It’s a way to put it right
Diamonds in bright sunlight
And my savior sits on a weathered post
And my savior sits on a weathered post
A toothless grin I cannot see
Holds my left hand agape
A maker for my extra parts
And my savior sits on a weathered post
And my savior sits on a weathered post
Bending my will to fit your skin
Wrapped around with blood and sin
Design a hungry bird’s mouth
And my savior sits on a weathered post
And my savior sits on a weathered post
Horizons Blurred (day 834)
I am sad and lonely
I am the glass that’s been all drunk
Walking along a long straight road
Horizons blurred
Sunlight’s hot
Another day
I am waiting to call your name
I am a symbol of fate
Setting my eyes upon the skies
Circling thoughts
Longest lost
Savior becoming
I am a wooden chair in dusty sunlight
I am spared another year
Reading dusty books
Too awake
Settling fate
Contemplating
Long Forgotten (day 749)
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Love is sadness that carries golden rays of sun towards dusk
Did sounds of heartache keep you awake at night
Blood oozing from hands that toiled for your fortunate future
Will you still love me when my hands have wrung themselves dry
Sitting here dancing with eyes around the moon tonight
Our dreams dressing up in black and white shoes
Placing our love into lust into locks of curly golden brown hair
Twirling ourselves round and round to the tune of trumpets in summers night air
Will you still love me when my hands have curled against time
Sheltering our eyes against the hours of sunlight
Carefully pulling apart leaves that shelter the garden
Shaking away caterpillars nibbling on precious shards of life
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When history remains and old friends have long forgotten
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When the story ends will there still be a thought
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Mother Earth’s Frosted Tongue (day 657)
A path
Littered with needles
Fallen lightly down
In cool winter’s breeze
Glares white
Long blue shadows
Battling footprints
This way and that
Taking me further
Into dreams of thought
With a steady breath
Dancing lightly
On stray beams
Of winter’s enemy
Sunlight, in warmth
Brings me home
Dusted with kisses
From Mother Earth’s
Frosted tongue
A Dying Plant (day 616)
Don’t die, my angel
I’ve fed you for months
Checked your soil daily
Put you into the
Most delectable spot
With adequate sunlight
And even talked nice
Whispered sweet nothings
Into your broad green leaves
Stay alive, I beseech you
For our future, we need you
I kneed you