I have listened for years
Laying up on the ground
Each time was a new reminder
I would never really be found.
I have thought this reality
Most unusual is my sanity
Potentially even ground
As dove song listen sounds
I remember my own sense of nothing
I knew forever I could be found
Many times in my life,
have I stepped away,
taken a breather,
had my hand forced …
yet, when does the time come when we can
honestly say,
the choice is my own
for me to decide
in some sort of even way,
not a hostile arrangement,
by any means,
so out of character,
would be defiance and doom and gloom.
Stepping away
would ask for only a settlement
in love, in passion, in pursuance
of those pieces of our lives,
our own peace,
our desire to understand
a world beyond
selfish need.
Reality is a dream,
we can see deep along a river path,
the blossoming of spring,
the lush imagination
allows us to draw
our own own
sweet circumstance
the beauty of a fantasy,
the magic of our mind.
So we do step away,
on occasion within ourselves,
in other situations,
we ask for a pardon,
and yet,
the road away does seem to
carry the weight
of our own self-proclaimed tragedy,
with far less burdensome angst,
than
if we stay within the course
of simple travesty.
Outside, the sun had begun to shine,
an overbearing competition inside.
© Thom Amundsen 3/2020
(dedicated to the goodness of time, a friend and his family)
When in a moment we might reflect
upon the reason,
we could together share a memory,
the fleeting laughter,
we would do this together,
wouldn’t we create a scene,
a wonderful attribute,
of the years,
oh the many years,
the travels we knew
without ever having to leave our home.
In a sort of magical day dream,
we crossed so many paths as one,
and now today,
they celebrate a journey
oh for the love of our children
we do,
we will always,
we did for the span of a lifetime
hope and pray,
we might somehow find His way,
some way decide upon a natural course
of our lives
we would find
sweet serenity,
a mysterious energy,
one with love,
a compassion
we might give freely …
cherish the beauty of time.
For it is today,
we now togeteher
cross the sky
with a specacular
sunrise,
a setting moon,
in each adventure,
I might in the arctic
winter
share love as a soul mate
might find again,
discover the truth
was always within our dreams.
Peace be with the onlookers
for their journey just begun.
Just when – a life – began to know,
the world would turn upside down,
up and down,
the roller coaster of living,
that piece of life,
that living peace,
the part of never knowing exactly why,
why not,
why should we begin
to feel there is a real reason,
it would be so easy,
they often say that in the final moments,
don’t they?
don’t they,
didn’t they ever give you any indication.
Did you know,
did you have any idea
at all.
It is in life’s conclusion,
we begin to realize,
forced really,
to know the beginning of answering
questions that will forever
be the haunting edge of wondering just how,
when,
why is it so simple to reason now,
when earlier in the day,
weeks ago,
that one time, that sunny afternoon,
where laughter always seemed to bury
the pain.
It was then,
the indicator
suggested we should all plan our lives
around being together,
knowing we would
always understand,
always be around,
be able to answer the …
there is a certain mystique in
recognizing timing and the essential
point
of no return.
She was as simply beautiful as
a spectacular morning sun,
his wit,
the ability for him to carry a room,
he’ll never know just how,
he’ll never know,
it is really too bad,
too bad,
when we all fail to realize
the beauty of life is being able
to face the demons head on.
Face the demons head on,
the spirit moves you,
to understand the world is
as simple as the day is long,
left in the hands of a complication,
we all have to recognize
there is a moon held in fashion,
for everyone,
for every one,
every
one person that suggests the same,
the people we care about,
care about you as well,
they all do see the same moon …
When simply we wonder
we always carry the same
the same familiar response,
we all can be in one,
holding true
to a realization.
We are all in some humane form,
responding to the same moon.
Oh to play with the notion of thought,
to understand the reasoning behind
purpose, attitude, maybe the inspiration,
we all do seek when lost in the shuffling
nature of the season.
Oh, when winter will remark upon
a simple morning frost, to make allowance
for concept, to create, maybe instinctive,
our bodies, our selves, intermingle
with the true meaning of life,
when swept inside the tenets of an arctic
breeze, chilling and responsible, ease.
Once, while a child, ‘I watched in solemnity,’
his body laid into the cold, dark earth,
forever to be walked upon, glanced nearby,
thought of in the chilly absence of life.
We all stepped tenderly away, him alone,
the music did continue to play,
but I, the child, I never really understood.
Walk with me, she said that early evening,
her smile frozen in the iciclic nature of time,
I wondered if when we ever did reach
a destiny, if then, perhaps would be a time,
we might center ourselves and then ask when.
But the winds were fierce, the bridge far too close,
the edge always asking for me, screaming really,
our separate paths become the night pattern.
Oh to hear the sounds, the visions do emanate,
for the will of our lives, the anguish we debate.
Oh I do wish the world might offer solace
When it is we are all wandering an alone,
A wonder is to recognize any one pace
Could, would offer a shoulder to unknown
Soul who cries in the midst of happiness,
For it is the season to seek absolute joy,
Because we were told, and now deploy
Our finest avenues of energy to impress.
Yet how might the onlooker really feel
If in the end their yearning find sorrow,
If only in a moment their truth borrow
The Grace in everyone’s eyes they appeal.
For when the world begins to understand
Is the time that hardship wears no land.
With a mental spade in hand,
I broke ground in a volatile land.
It is the sort of tale we often forget,
when suddenly life simply won’t relent.
I crossed over into a forgotten meadow,
only to find I’d still carried a shadow.
There is a reality in knowing the right word
to help move beyond what we might think absurd.
It is a choice,
to dig.
While the atmosphere around us seems trite,
there is a powerful settling in dirt contrite.
Seems the space may no longer feel quite clean,
once the reality of our lives become serene.
Oh stop again,
for the dig.
Seems the further inside the realm of disdain,
less easily is the worker’s ability to complain.
Seams in the environmental cause will display
while every last item of loss has fallen his way.
Though the earth has a forever sort of fallen ground
gives credence to the prison in which we are bound.
We cannot ever escape the tone of the suddenly frail,
its competency so built upon retelling a scorching tale.
Instead we dig, we do try to compel a story,
written by ourselves to discover just what glory
lies in the dig,
where uncovered,
we fall victim to knowing time is a circle, a place
whereby all of our insecurities likely keep pace,
while digging,
in search of a likely capsule.
The ground itself in however it may swell,
always uneven, one might never retell.
If not for the power of greed,
Have I been a loose cannon of need.
If only while our world crumbles beyond,
We still might use laughter to carry on.
If well before the dawn of new civilization,
Would we still use ignorance to define a nation.
If while this short time we have to persevere
Could our lives be simpler, to wish less severe.
If I might all of my mistakes be solemnly heard,
Maybe then peace of mind seem far less absurd.
If by my neighbors hand I reach to embrace,
A lovely reality of knowing His my only Grace.
If when every soul around me were to smile,
Could we live and carry on strong a sweet mile.
If while I wonder the words my mind does employ
Might have value to the eyes and ears to offer joy.
Then might I breathe a smooth discourse in life
All of which lends reprieve to the burden of strife.
While we ran the backyards,
the slow walk through the dandelions
pollened by summer’s bees,
we did think alone,
the same way we,
the same notions, we may
have today, the same wonderment
of the psychological nature,
compels our being,
causes our heart to swoon,
allows for the time to stand still,
we can all be in love
when we know the answer is
truth in the manner of an eternal Grace.
I do know love, I like to say,
much better than yesterday,
though a child,
I knew love unconditionally
until one day …
We wander beyond our lost innocence
a compelling stir
of reality and fantasy,
suddenly knowing why our tears
could last forever,
or at least until
we are told that is
good enough,
life goes on,
time to move forward,
hold onto memory,
but never ever recall the same.
As a little boy,
I used to watch cars slip up the hill,
a winter’s night, the street light,
snow filled the neighborhood,
and my ten year old self
safely tucked inside a picture window,
could watch the world survive a winter’s storm.
I would often wonder about the people inside,
if they knew I was watching,
if they could tell even in that stormy moment,
they would never be alone,
lost and frozen in the cold,
the ice of the street
would prevent them from
being in their own home,
the comfort of home,
putting aside all of the day’s
concerns,
having a martini,
perhaps a cigar,
and maybe a little bit of fantasy,
thinking about that woman at the bar,
and wondering again,
did she really smile,
or was that simply nerves.
I once left a hillside campground,
the whole walk worrying about fire,
and later ran back up the trail,
crossed the mountain creek
we liked to call it,
a little stream of shale and rocks,
gurgling along Woods’s Hill,
a memory,
when I returned to camp,
the fires had begun to ignite,
I felt like a boy scout
stamping out our ignorance.
I remember the day he died,
my world ended just a little bit,
enough for me to know,
reality was a far greater burden,
than the easy bliss of childhood fantasy.
I remember thinking then,
I would never worry about dwelling
on the past,
because nowadays,
there is too much excitement ahead.
I never forgot you man,
always on my mind,
I’ve often wondered if your childhood,
was ever so easily defined.
Where my reality lives, I sometimes never know,
depends upon the breathing,
a slight rasp might mean finding an edge,
a smooth inhale is the sign of reaching an end.
I do know though,
when I glance to my side,
in a sunlit morning, I can see myself,
that part of me no one might ever understand,
yet it contains me,
all of me beyond the physical attributes,
that sometime do define who I am.
I like to hide from him,
as much as possible because the possibilities are endless
when I go about thinking all the mistakes he contains,
when the brilliance of my mind let’s loose,
and there is no where to turn except to jump in,
wait it out until sunset, at least then I might disappear.
I wish there might be the occasion when in a fleeting moment of forgetfulness,
he could gesture an implied consent,
a suggestive attribute of worthiness,
yet instead,
he lingers, waiting, watching, knowing,
what it is I might be wondering.
* photo found on Pinterest
