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….
in the awakening might I tread lightly on as the sky explodes with dreams spread tethered out on cotton streams a requiem for a thief, for I am- a consumer of all things until I become threadbare, myself a baron of composition bereft of fruit to wither into the aether to claim my time to cling to life I, survive.
notes… we slide in and out of this existence to fast in cosmic time… I hope this is just a train stop in the converging line of time and dimensions…
for am I faint my words are thoughts only whispers in drought carry-on in the airy realm- for my feet are not on this ground, my body- but a fading shroud a lone sense a vague sense of place for I was attached to but a name now my shackle is curious bound round the round I orbit this base just past the touch in the realm between of know and known this is this place, my home
notes… we are, in many ways a beautiful culmination a molecular miracle generation, but we are also temporal, how do we as thinking beings reconcile this? I don’t know… I know religions cover this, but how can a religion formed by us in these scant few years of human existence on this one planet, in the infinity of space, cover this? wrapping our heads around impossibility or inevitability is anathema to the human mind… because we want to survive just as the simple bird does hatching eggs in spring… that thread binds all living things, is that god speaking to us? I guess I will have to wait for my end for a real answer… or none… hence the conundrum…
nary a worry bare’ing on the cloud countenance fair recompense for seasons spent – in blankets distant time now in slumber in the gloaming a solid azure temple looms testament to that coming soon if joy had a soul and a mate written ‘cross this beaming sky even up on the skin of suns doth sing, doth rejoice hymns of the life of promise for even death’s dark heart, is warm’d I would not foretell a gospel of such emancipation- the atmosphere, she is in courtship with every breath drawn in on the air’e – rides sensations eyes that have had this common pause this common cause down unto a leaf the beauty say keep from within my hand into the very ground reflecting back, our wonders spin-spinning faster the sunlight slides out across the landscape flat shadows stretch long they affirm my existence for now, at least – for now.
in search of rain or perhaps some wine promise to sing whichever lends me the time to dance the whirl to let go of the world a hop, a skip, a jump from a curb fly for an instant downward splash forget all troubles blank-in the past ignore the future tunnel-in-to now take a deep sip take a bow, take this all in- for this is now soak up the time for your time is now. (with joyous intent)
(wings are not always feathers) for might I – fly? even then- imagine, a butterfly in flight is an exercise the so-delicate the so-soft the ballet pirouette yet effort lies root the rouse; to my friend, the hummingbird a dervish of the common earth a-wings a-blur hand a scepter to the nectar queen move forward from that pounding heart, I might rather be a simple gull and glide on above ocean tides, falls and rise suspended as with silken threads, drawn a puppets ride swaying forth like a child’s swing as someone else pushes- perhaps… even that… the hands of god.
in the house of the dying sun, a knock on the door an uncle a cousin a brother and I forgot to remember- that he is gone for father has traveled on into the land beyond (our senses). the wife, a sister, my mother left with the charge for every crack and nook imbued with the marriage of years strolling through photobooks slow motion silent cinema tales snapshots of a life no longer in motion told and closed, the deacon of my being struggles struggles for reason for faith to believe in our fates for a reason, for a meaning, I yearn for the voice of dominion for guidance, for wisdom for the power to accept as we must, and accept there is no choice no choice in the matter for soon enough I will join you father and once more be of your manor.
notes… been mired in the weather so not posting too much, I have been writing however, just not posting, sometimes life gets in the way, you know ? Thanks for all the looks and comments, I appreciate your time and stopping by.
my beautiful flower for what have I done poisoned my garden ’till kingdom come
notes… since my father passed I have been posting photos on my facebook page daily, and of course I wound up running across photos of her, my true love, the major screw up I can never mend, well, I hope but that was many years ago, time is supposed to mend or heal, not so much here, I try not dwell but honestly it is always there, somewhere, some days just rise and it is all I can think about, just happened to coincide with V-day, I used to make her special meals, with red themes, heart shaped veg or the like, always something ambitious, I miss those days, but I am still here and there are days ahead, so that has to be my focus, but seeing those old photos, the closeness, her holding me and me her, in addition to my old dog, Chestnut, whom I loved so very much, and made mistakes like any first time parent, memories, of all the animals we had, practically a zoo, birds (amazon yellow front, parakeet, parotlet, monk parakeet), a degu, pacus, turtles (mississippi mud and soft shell), a mexican tarantula, a sugar glider and a texas ground squirrel… yeah it was pretty nuts, and I leaving out the scorpions and betas… retrospect always breeds romanticism, but who am I to argue with my own feelings? but accept them.
“and what I know of the silence of love speaks volumes”
notes… haiku? not sure, not meant to be, strictly, that is, this is something I woke up this morning and this was scribbled (OK, typed) in notepad on my little laptop friend here, I don’t even recall writing it, but since I am a music wonk it has beats… 5 / 5/ 3, funny how the universe works such things out (hat tip, universe, in waves)