our world, in the end, is bones…

our world, in the end, is bones…

delivered from the ether
birthed onto this blessed vessel
celestial gestation,
my ordained time
to grow
seed to sapling
in this world- of- bones;
the very light of the only heaven

we know
projected onto our sacred ground
the giver of life
our only sun
so might I have this chance
this moment
a miracle –
in this- world of bones.

notes: revelation today… the words popped into my head for the past few days “this world of bones”… because that is all that is left, it is not a good record of the amazing life that has spread here, just in my short lifetime, or any time, the earth will be just a graveyard one day, even more than it already is with the dinosaurs and previous life forms… but for us… the bones will not just be our bodies but our buildings and thrivings, it will all end, and that is OK, that is the way of things, I fear for myself, of course, I don’t know how to square that peg, but I am not alone, we all have to meet that end, and so we will, I fear I will be lost to the ether, absorbed back into the universe that has no need for the meaning of me, and I will never know, I will just be gone, I hope, and pray that my spirit finds a place, but even the universe must end, and maybe that is what death is about, even the oldest thing, the only thing, must have a start and an end, this existence, my life, is no exception, but that does not make it easier to comprehend…the end.

gone.

gone.

and this too, will end
this all goes away
with time, washed,
to a second rise
my finite resonance
among the harmony
and the chaos
of the humanity I hold so dear
my definition
my love
my fears,
all this too, will end
I pray for more
more than I am due
more than I am worth
the same as an inch of dirt
or worse, or heaven herself
but somehow
deep down
I know.

damn this song, this version, so affects so many of us, the raw, the real, the feel. it resonates because truth resonates and we know it when we are shown it. this is the real, we have an end, it is terrifying to me, I want to be some sort of pillar, but I am just a man, just me… and I have made mistakes, and I regret them… but does that make me a bad man? or worse? or less? no…

retreat. (in a mind, or?)

retreat. (in a mind, or?)

the desire to
lock myself in my own room

spin a yarn for a time or two
as the outer light does fade
spinning round the barrier
a protector, a soft wall
but yet a border just the same
so I might pause
and rest
ahhhh, respite
no, waking sleep
ability, to transform
and emerge
in time
-to fly (forward).

my island…

my island…

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

may I stay
and sway
forever, in the lands beyond
like a frond
of a perfect palm
hand drawn

stark outline
in the setting sun,
shadow on sand
dancing,
to the gentle song
of the waves
sliding,
into the shore.

notes… if, no when, I go to sleep, for in this life, I wish to be on the shore, water is the force of life, and I want to be at that shore for all time, if I can be, or least that is my dream… I hope this work conveys that sentiment, for it is my sentiment before I become sediment for I will… all my love, all my consciousness will be transferred to that, that golden shore, of my dreams, and so will I be, for the immediate eternity, a dream along the beach, so I hope, so I dream….

the birthing…

the birthing…

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

“a postulation on the transient nature of self”

a colony
prescribed by the hand of time
ordered into the womb of god
delivered
and so you are

notes… sometimes things pop in my head, I could tell you I am not religious because I am not, but does that mean I do not believe in something higher… how can we just be dropped here right now on this little marble in the middle of supreme vastness ? sure, it could all be random, but I would rather think a hand is moving things behind the scenes, I’m probably wrong, so what… in the end it does not matter, so I choose to believe my life has meaning…

rain dance…

rain dance…

Photo by Binyamin Mellish on Pexels.com

I wish the whimsical
I pray, I dance
on the drum skins of the old gods
lying forgotten in the thunderlands
I shout out, in trance
to transform this grassy prairie
into the bounty of lush forestlands
may brooks break the backs of the deep plates
and carve-cut out the roadways
for life to venture out upon
quench the sponge until overflow
from bird to bee, proliferation
all manner of life, let this be

notes… one of those that snuck into my skull, I found myself in ancient america at the foot of the grasslands, and wondered what it would have looked like if forest had extended outward coast to coast.. so this is that work…