when all the stars fade
and are gone
for we will not know
that the end
has already come;
left to linger here
for this news
in this bath
of our own unknown-
with that end
speeding towards us
an end already ordained
for us;
nothing to do
nothing can not be as done.
These words came to me as I was driving in twilight, the minivan in front of me I noticed, had a custom license plate
THNKUGD
and a handicapped sticker, I smiled, maybe I will enjoy this a bit longer, tonight.
this self afflicted veil of darkness;
when the light hits these eyes, this skin.
emerging from my cave
I know the feeling, always have
the warming, the inner joy of temporary reprieve,
how soon my dna seems to forget however, so, waiver,
to slink back to that dying comfort
to the slow killing-
all paths lead to death
yes,
but would I rather know the land a bit more
before,
does such meandering matter,
perhaps not,
does that make me dig my own plot however
that much sooner.
I might rather then, burn my feet in the light
on that unforgiving exposed plot of sand
than reduce down into a heap of still dust
a huddled cold mass,
all that lies between, is will.
notes… maybe my thoughts are a diary, of my inner self, or not so inner, just my self… sometimes there is rain. “but it can’t rain all the time”…
the binding profundity of the dark;
a governor’s call rings
grants a stay from decay
pretense/ see-saw \reprieve
this puppetry of light
until that dire hour
from which
no noble or vile traveler
has been seen or heard from
since.
.one of those that just popped into my mind… the profound coming of the dark, the unknown, I know how to hope, I know how to dream, but… how am I to battle that, to survive that, the prospect of never being is natural, yes, but it is almost worse than the alternative, I try to wrap my head around, the universe made me exist, all history united in this, me and you, but yet, given my chance, it will be all over in a glance, it is maddening, it shakes me to my core, there is a time past fear, and this is it, which makes me question everything. and then I fall back and wonder if it is better to question or just live on every breath, even if that makes no difference it makes a difference now, even if that is all we ever will have, I hope, I pray, not… but as my poem says we have not heard from those who have moved on regardless of who they are… and I will be much the same…
“Matrimony“
so-
should I?
marry you
death-
now or then
why wait?
why the rush?
inevitable-
the perfect mate;
fate-
so let the courtship begin
and never end.
unless I should begin again;
reincarnation or resurrection-
so let the lantern be lit
so I may follow
into the path of light.
somedays this feels
like being buried alive
I can sense the nails driving through the pine
see? no, I can hear them though
like they are piercing dead skin
sinking below the trees
into the calming realm of roots
sinking beneath the sprouted fields of youth
a faded diamond of sand above
rust dragging half a fence falling down
hanging heavy with weathered ivy
half brown but still fair cover
(for my slumber and eventual… release)
notes… so sometimes I think about the end, will I have awareness, or consciousness, or… anything ? was I only born when I was which would explain my actual naivety? or am I unaware of my past cosmic past? surely the universe has used these molecules before, just not in this particular configuration.. or yours, if you are asking… the whole entire existence of everything has come down to this, me talking to you, in this moment, or maybe whatever moment you read this, think about that, it is an amazing thing… the entire universe decided we had to be… I want to hold on to that, I want to embrace that, and I try…
t-hr..e-a-d..b-ar…e: I might imagine the fright, and the hindsight, upon looking back, at gomora, my sins were cast against only myself and her, but targets do not matter, had I struggled this long, so long, to not look back, perhaps, I would have spared miles upon my back and feet, only to come to this precipice gazing point, that all I cared for is back there, regardless of the infestation and decay of years, and here I wind up wandered, squandered- threadbare, so, do I dare?
left alone
in the desert
at night
with no stars
no moon to guide
only thoughts
those memories
no oasis
left to lie
quite awake
alone-
for all of night
left alone
in the forest
at night
not even an owl
but a full moon
above reach
above the trees
all surround
pikes like walls
staked to the ground
shadows bend and tuck the bars
around
not a sound
I curl in
forever night
I remember
a campfire
tended to
the warmth
rising like a spire
a canopy
a bio-dome
down to embers
now gone
flickers linger
and succumb
chasing into the sky
like stars
long gone-
cocoon of death transforms
as the one
absorbed
by the universe
once more
to sleep in other
beings
dreams
dispersed from our-self-forming seed
absorbed into the atoms of others-
eternity?
notes… a musing in my status, even if surrounded we all die alone, we are not born alone, we are guided into this life, brought along with a mother’s hand in the womb, travel a path to our own existence, and then ? who knows… but it is there, always there, most of us live as if this will go on, but even the best and worst of us are gone, can this all be for naught? a cosmic tease? or is their more? and the only way to know… is down that path we all must go… does it pay to waist my mental wealth on these questions ? probably not… but for the life of me (pun intended) I can not ignore them… we die alone but I do not wish to die alone, is there a difference?
and as a reminder or a tip to newbies to my blog… these works are off the cuff, I wrote this within minutes, all of it, no torture of words, no wringing my ends, just my thoughts spitfire onto the page, that is what is what the muse so chooses me to do, so is this literary perfection ? no… or even my best expression ? perhaps not… but so it is, the cauldron that has consumed me since birth, even this little swirl of words… there are people out there who will not get it, and some who do, I send good will to all of you as we are here stewarding this world at this same time… for a short time… our time, we are together, as different or as same as we are… because.. we ARE….
and so there I was, another year, another week, my fortress of solitude, or at least a rental for a time, a log cabin up on Calvert cliffs, overlooking the Chesapeake bay, I come here on vacation once a year, I wind up contemplating life, and death, no, not a suicide thing, I have never had thoughts like that (thankfully), just looking down at my pile of chips and seeing where I am in the game, this is not reality, heck, it is escapism at it’s best (or worst), I suppose it is easy to take the yoke off, work, family, the daily routine I fall into, immediately I am relieved, within a day, just walking along the beach, my preoccupation of looking for, fossils in the surf (as this place is known for), perhaps just a metaphor, as I wander looking for perfect pieces of my past washed up on the ‘beach’, walking with no direction, no time slot, no time schedule, no idea of time unless I care to look at my phone, the cliffs block the sun in a way that shadows roam and invade nearly at half a day, and the beach, in most parts is dark by two in the afternoon, while the residents are out and about with work and life, and there I wander, no destination except not being able to walk further, the broken shells rip at my feet, so I put on my water shoes, then they rub my ankle damn raw so I take them off, barefoot again, sinking into the shore, the usual chatter of a busy subway platform in my mind subsides, washed away by every lap of tide, even on days when the water was a mirror, still the soft heart beat slight roar as the waves sink into the shore, at times I just stare at the water, or the birds, cormorants preening, their black shadows standing out against the water, and the gulls, their stark white standing out against the bluest of sky, even the occasional clouds can not ruin this scene, a Chesapeake scene painted on the fly just for me, as no where else in the world is anyone else seeing through my eyes right at this time, the wonder, this patch of time to never happen again and yet will a million times more – with wrinkles, the stress I brought in, seemed bound tightly in chains to my being, melts away without any resistance, effortless, regardless of my advancing age I feel young again, full of possibilities, everything seems right, but of course this is not real life, and the mornings, as I sit in place, coffee mug to face, watching the sun come up out over the bay, I wonder instead of leaving a part of me here, can I bring this slice with me instead…
but admittedly on the exit day, it all starts creeping in again, deadlines, ‘have to’s, things to do, bills to pay… all seems to crowd out hope, but I must remember this, the view, from the house on the cliffs, and the clarity it brings me, maybe this is distillation of the soul, and maybe I should pay more attention to the unraveling of my coil…
Shades of My Garden 