What Calls Our Name

© Spencer Byles

© Spencer Byles

When we find water, that gurgling stream,

while sunlight sparkles the ambience we dream

might let me travel away from this time

when I couldn’t hang onto a rhyme,

a reason, a thoughtful enterprise

a purpose, with growing desire I rise

to the occasion

without indecision.

When mounting concern envelops my mind,

I look to the sky, its well, in my nature I find

solace in a stream, a part of the wood,

that place I would hide myself if I could,

only to suggest the concrete is a certain pain,

when the body makes contact, a bruise remain.


The city itself is a metaphor for strife

my God, could I ever begin my life,

if forever I am drawn by the task and need,

of thousands of bodies all taking the lead.


I stepped into the woods to sweet brush in green,

the fresh scent of pine, sounds of life serene,

I thought about what I had just left behind,

realized this is where my peace I’d find.


I wander alone through the city, a menacing arsenal

delivers winding avenues, escapes inside the pines tall.

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