our own making

our own making

where as I might delve
into my deepest thoughts
a cliff
of my own making (of course now)
but how to train
yourself
among your experience
had by none
except…
yourself
that is the conundrum
of these short times
our lives

so many billions born and die… and so on and so on… but yet we are all our own singularity, born only as the empty vessel with our own lens instead of the accumulated knowledge of so many ages… the strangeness is so strange to me, the universe is billions of years old, at least this one… (something had to exist before this did? or is this the first? can that be? so much to consider, leave it to a hawking I suppose) – does the every day person even consider such things? Do you?

fabric

fabric

for even the fabric of space
wears down
to even holes
someone has to repair
as the fabric grows
so very old

and when the garb
has been outgrown
a hand me down
to another space

a matter of cloth
as this fabric created
shall not be destroyed
but remade
for all-time’s sake

space is the fabric that holds us all, in life, death, in peril and love, the under pinning of it all, the pillar upon which we all – live, seems more than a flimsy hammock I think…

wolves

wolves

with what lies inside
is the same as wolves
all though we deny
what we know is true

and we say
and claim
that is what makes us human
before we make the kill
in our own way

no idea how the muse works, this just popped into my head, this is a total one take, I literally heard the words in my head and wrote them down… my old line, this is how I work, I don’t question it, I trust it sometimes… and sometimes not. so, here it is, I am my own mind… if you get it great, if not, fine enough, I post for me and if others understand, cool