Changing Paths – I Still Do

We all know what we believe

in the moment

as we breathe the air around us

would our lives begin to rush

beyond the truth of

what is love,

what lays within our heart,

how does the soul feel sweet reckoning.

~

I have experience in the truth of

changing paths

listened to fear

tried to understand reasoning

when even so, there is one person involved

in the mindset of two,

there is the quandary between me and you.

~

Your fear of changing my path,

if you study the real

then might you possibly feel the beauty

of one’s sacrifice to know life with the other,

to completely give ourselves

to one another.

~

I did love you, and I was willing to go anywhere

your desire would wish enhance our passion.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

A Quiet Run

I took a jog recently,

you know the kind with all the right gear

and the temperature

seemed ready to suggest

this human being is part of the machine.

~

From inside my mind, decidedly

I picked a route far too familiar, that place, that region

where everyone wants to land

and no one takes the time to question why,

we just let ourselves step forward again.

~

It isn’t until later on a quiet side road

everything is familiar,

the aches in our joints,

the sweaty brow we cannot seem to hide,

we are all the same again inside.

~

Tonight I heard words that would suggest a different path,

one that appreciates my steps alone, my words, my world.


© Thom Amundsen 6/2021

When Walking

abstract-wall-art-family-brown-painting-mavatar

We choose a step, a cadence, a pattern

we may distinguish as our own,

yet we always have knowledge,

of our predecessor, our previous walk.

When someone is borne of ambition

their ideals, point of reference

seems rather fascinating to the observer,

so magical is idyllic inspiration.

~

We have options we often share

with our neighbors next door,

without ever having to interact

or face the music of our fear.

We wave while passing by on a walk,

having little idea of what’s on their mind,

keeping silent our own frame of …

quite frankly we probably don’t care.

~

Tonight while staring at my favorite wall,

I could see through the haze a world,

furniture looks nice, a fireplace glows

we could not have imagined a life so grand.

Yet the wall continues to hinder my eyes

when inside my body will churn, misguide

my motives to remain a sedentary

human example of groomed woodwork.

~

When walking someone said choose a path.

When walking someone suggested our path.

~

Photo found on Mavatar

Gravel

gravel

The step is always varied,

a crunch, slide, reposition,

always adjustment

clearly laid down to create a path,

noisy, apparent, edged reality.

~

Perhaps we might imagine

our lives as freshly laid

stones on a clear surface,

always shifting, adjusting,

atop a clean slate of sorts.

~

Can we withstand the slam

of our society’s grasp,

careens of insecurity,

squeezed together firm

asked to frame our posture.

~

rocks meant to be loose,

without a strong structure

open to movements

and slippery motives

all piled together as one.

~

We do pitch ourselves about

trying to maintain our posture.

~