There In The Deep Wood

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the lights on the house in the distance burn,

the figures inside I knew like my own,

in the damp soil, I would wait in the wood.

wondering if they would ever venture out,

would they wonder where I might next shout.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the cars travel by all strangers in the hour,

their lives meant for homes beyond my eye,

I would ask about their wonders and wanders

though I would never hear, just keep an eye

on their lives in the brief moments, passers by.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the stars illuminate a night sky in fall,

I might wonder about the earth in universe

watching all the patterns of the Milky Way,

there were so many, so brilliant their lives

though some I had known, others would fade.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

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Traveling Alone

Oh, tell me good stranger the outcome of time,

When one solitary sign might feel inclined

To wonder about life in all of its travail,

Is it true a compassionate soul is virtue.

 

Or are we perhaps a mockery of our time,

Imagining only the fantasy of the mind.

How often do we find ourselves, seek

True detail of a life’s personal outpourings

 

I stood behind an oasis of fear for a year,

Each opportunity to run crested by waves

Of discontent, the atmosphere so slick,

I imagined only the word storms present.

 

In knowing a solo follow is enchantment,

Seek a stranger’s road wise enlightenment.

Love, Time & Death

Central Park

It’s New York,

of course,

where lives do happen,

cross through Central Park,

onto 7th until we find ourselves,

sitting on a bench,

wondering where everyone is coming from,

hoping that we might find peace.

 

We keep looking in their eyes,

sometimes the notice is true,

others,

they walk by searching themselves

for some resting point,

a place they can call home.

 

He is that man alone in a world,

where everything exists,

and he’ll ride his bicycle all hours of the night,

because he can,

he can maneuver through the masses,

and always,

he can still eat his dinner alone.

 

She might be that woman living different roles,

walking through the park,

with a certain flair,

an attraction to the masses,

yet, in her mind,

no one really notices,

because she has felt alone.

 

I took the day off today

because I needed rest,

seems that has been a necessary event,

while the world continues to glow around me,

I center my eyes upon tears,

for it seems they are always near,

waiting for some answer,

a reason to suggest there is purpose,

even when nothing seems to matter,

only time continues to measure.

 

When that moment called me,

I stood before an audience,

Strangers all of them so cold,

the bitter icy winds of discontentment,

without notice walked away,

while my body wondered about time,

the descent, how far, how chilled, how quickly.

Then she became the moment,

amongst many beyond that walkway …

 

she is love.

Walking Faceless

walkways

Taking a stroll downtown to walk the pavement

The many faces, the many eyes, the many silent

Moments that brush past their shoulders every

Waking morning, every tired day’s end so ready

~

Return home or to that place they find some solace

A refuge with walls, cornerstones; a quiet palace

Dinner is prepared with a martini nearby the fire

Newsprint becomes electronics kindled to aspire

~

Upon the world’s travesties, war at home and away

Today read about a drug epidemic seems here to stay

Ah a tired cranium hits the pillow the same each nigh

Dreams of pavement and shoulders and asking why

~

The mirrored outlook a callous reminder of whom

We may intrigue, we have inspired, we daily become