Taking A Walk

a walk in the woods

quiet serene streamed light

we listen to silence

rustling breeze

we can hear the sound

begin from across the lake,

until in our world, we sense the true

nature of a forest,

maple, pine, birch,

a history of love in recluse

taking a walk

one day I realize

we are all the same

when climbing our trails

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Silent Moment

When just a glance

offers no chance.

 

When a quiet remember

ignites angry ember

 

While offering some solution

quickly dies our absolution

 

With every offered ideal

there seems a ready deal

 

I walked inside a mirage the other day,

I thought i had sort of found my way

yet I was schooled

nobody fooled

there was still some recompense

to help me certain not make any sense

of the world around me

the choices astound when we

 

lose our way

step away

 

for the light of some distant thoroughfare

would shadow reality if their own fare

were an ultimatum that offered choice

an opportunity to personally rejoice

while the other, the saboteur seems an outlier

quickly thought to be just that suggested crier.

 

While in truth the merits of one

would that we were never done.

On The Wonder of Age

Today is the birthday of an elder,

a daughter just lost her father,

a young boy,

playing in a culvert,

watching handmade wooden ships

float toward the sewer,

no judgment in mind,

simple childhood,

with an elder keeping his welfare

in mind.

 

We wonder sometime about the truth

in aging, the wisdom found,

the mistakes we wish to take bake

yet now we simply go on living

appreciating sometime

the turn of the coin

where once we believed this,

now we are forever asking for

sweet forgiveness

because with age

comes for some a sense of

quiet humility.

 

Oh do answer the question

that when under the knife

my body shut down

for modern medicine

did I go anywhere

with my dreams

beyond waking again,

seemingly fixed

yet forever drawn

to wondering just why.

 

The age of this my freedom

Will by my silent fiefdom

What’s Really Happening

Ever wonder,

when you look them in the eye,

if their response

is a genuine effort to lie.

A mean-spirited man once said to me,

if you wait around, you die.

 

Ever wander

through a day and sigh,

just not sure how to complete a moment,

instead letting it pass,

by listening to the tick, a steady reminder,

of every lackluster effort

we decry.

 

Ever wonder,

what it is like to

find the answer

without actually recognizing why,

said the man,

to the other man,

who thought of the man,

to be lesser than

the Man.

Playing Silent Chords

Every sound begins a sermon

tells me where I am

what I have become,

where the next adventure lies.

I started with a ticking clock

symbolic of our borrowed time

always a reminder

that our lives do hang in the balance

when suddenly drowned out by machines

those that run our lives when we awaken

from the silent revery of our destiny.

Distant in the background

the ticking remains

yet now I am alone

listening and trying to hear

that word, or phrase or natural light

that indicator of why I do exist in the moment

why right now as I lay here on my couch

my life has purpose

and everything around me,

is part of a design

a greater vehicle of fortune

that I might ever imagine.

In the silence I hear my children’s voices

laughter and innocence

when neither they or we

concerned ourselves with the next day.

That’s different now,

when we think about what is next

much like the chords on a guitar

waiting for the next ballad

there’s always a ballad

looming about during moments of reckoning.

What is the music that played when silence

began the spiritual journey toward humility.