Gravity Is Patient

Weight(less)

A Whisper in the Forest

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Temperance River – Minnesota

~

When I whisper

a cool draft escapes

shadowed in morning sunlight

I can see you

exist

all the different angles

of creation amidst the tragedy of

a waiting table of spring

eternal.

We still find a way

to continue our travel with a blinding speed,

yet some,

Nature

awaits a temperate shift

in an earthly climate,

warmth releases them back into the wilderness

a mountain stream.

I wonder if the gasp

my visible contribution

today’s learned lesson of

helpless abandon.

I wonder how often it is we

imagine

the gravity of our purpose.

~

*personal photograph

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Time Beyond Decay

that irresolute nature of mistake,

the grief, sometime pity,

the realization of a period or our lives,

when misnomers, misreads, easily solved riddles

become the purveyor of our future

decisions.

How often have I felt the pain of my reality,

yet while refusal,

that piece of ignorance,

speaks in a tone all too familiar,

when does the wheel begin to turn,

the one I’m slowly trying to recreate,

in the solitary confines of my mind.

~

I would imagine a world where life could

only happen

rather than a constant reliance upon

misconception.

~

We do walk in similar paths,

all of heart, our desire, our inspiration,

driven by a soulful paradigm,

that when slow

we do look inside one another eye’s

we might realize

there is truth to the service of our own faith

to call upon a world similar

with peace and love being the mantra of our day.

Morning Solace

When wake of day the sunlit rays cause a stir

we might know the beauty of another may.

When soul do cross path, we might register

a new sort of peace, a kindly takeaway

~

We do welcome the light of day with hope

a happiness may speak volumes so near

to the heart of that which creates our slope

where descend or rise we might commandeer.

~

while soft the fever of the mourning leaves

the mind to gently wander near to bask

in gentle storms, without wallow she grieves

that very night where he may leave his mask

~

Sweet the eyes of a waking day might release

Chance pheromone albeit, a lasting peace.

Civilized Agony

Tears are real,

though hidden,

repressed,

we really don’t reveal

fires inside,

we can’t allow others

inanimate reasons

to hold court

in the presence

of others.

When alone,

that ability

to cry out loud

delights the mind,

while sitting alone

without audience

tears will flow free

and yet if we reveal

a sob, a gasp, an awkward

shift in posture,

if we,

allowances are made,

we become free,

we fly inside a dream,

a myriad of emotion

follows …

in there a world

far beyond

a typical day,

a routine need,

a wonderful sunrise,

becomes ironic,

we believe our soul

cleansed again.

Wonder Highways

How many hours spent

rolling wheels

distant sunlight

turns to slow sunset,

miles away,

traveling forever,

I remember the endless

glance to the sky,

waiting for the next …

miracle.

~

Always did  wish

for some reprieve,

back of heads,

one smoking,

the other in a similar

place 40 years later,

we were isolated

in our own travel

companion.

~

There lies beyond

our reach, well,

my reach really,

some answer,

a proclamation,

a sudden reality

wavering in the sky,

just beyond our eyes,

yet there it is,

speaking silently,

looking like some

unattainable,

God.

Defining Depression

She walked in the room after a trying day,

he wanted to listen to what she might say.

~

She couldn’t speak beyond looking his way,

he thought, alright, it will be this sort of day

~

She wants to feel as if everything will be okay,

he knows deep inside her heart breathes dismay

~

She chose to allow other beasts to walk daresay

he could not imagine any other words to convey

~

She woke every morning with a solid plan in play

he watched her unravel in short time without delay

~

They do not simply leave her alone today.

These Keys

wolves

In the woods, the wilderness evokes

a sound of rustling, twigs snapping, a breeze through leaves

that whisper a reality we cannot pretend away.

Instead we listen, we joy in the simple nature

of the forest in its pristine state,

always waiting, forever growing,

letting our lives appreciate its pure self.

This is a key to understanding our human nature.

When we leave the wood,

we return to today’s world in automation,

in electricity that which turns us on,

turns off when we need to disappear,

the engines whir in the hands of our own guidance

our responsibility,

we live by the sound of our activity,

This is a key to understanding our human nature.

I’m sitting down

I’m near tears without any reason why,

perhaps the music I’ve chosen,

possibly the state of mind I am in.

Been here before, felt it many times,

and on occasion chose a difficult path,

one that would eventually hurt my mind.

This is a key to understanding our human nature.

Why is it I can see through the forest,

I can understand how the world exists around me,

I know people adjust to one another,

while deep inside the wood, our nature is to imagine,

the wolves are waiting.

~

*picture found on tumblr