Standing On The Edge

The job is done,

there is a light ahead,

a bit of peace,

planning for a soft landing

the harsh reality of this

reason

our own examined purpose

seems less imperative

 

Watching the rains today

falling forever

a reminder of a constant

unlike the streaking sunlight

of a gorgeous spring day,

rains are fallible

they leave a mark,

a damp reminder

of what is what may be

what the afterward might see.

 

Could it be so simple

as watching a spring storm

cover the earth around us

allowing life to grow

when inside

the mind seems to seek

any obstacle to suggest

our lives that matter

are lives of little …

or is it part of some

chemical imbalance

like the heads say,

a reasoning that could be

a wild hair

rather than a logical

synapse that suggests

the true meaning of perfection

is

a quiet response

to the mystique we know to be

the human condition

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In Respect to Anger

A friend of mine

told me the truth today,

said in a matter of fact way,

you are too angry man,

life is too short.

I paused,

put away my defenses

began to wonder about my

starting words,

and came to the conclusion,

I’m always

this or that or why or because or they

yet somehow I’m never too me.

 

Life is too short,

life is too sweet

life is a carnival

and yet we never quite

make it to the

presidential suite

 

Instead we look for someone else

to take the blame,

and so standing in the parking lot

tonight,

I felt my eyes did well with tears

realized my exhaustion has a purpose

allows me to come to terms

with who I am what time I have

life is a carnival after all,

we should remember just how to

enjoy the ride.

‘Slowly Melting Snowy Vistas’

IMG_1073

An idea,

a visual reminder

to help find footing

rather than wallow

in what might feel lost,

our lives precious,

imagine only

nature is a cycle

eternal while forever.

 

Once while in wonder

reminded by favor

a slow descent in time

while all around

lives experience

a monotony of time

wishing purpose

witness a warming

allows our lives

to know change

always a measure

the melting horizon

might we seek

a cleansing challenge.

 

When the dial

shall evolve

daylight turns to

a mysterious shroud

where our eyes

opaque shadows

awaits our return

only to discover

with the rising sun

earth has begun

a new journey

again, spectacular

beyond occasion

this is our next day,

a blossoming spring.

 

Purposeful vistas

do slip away,

only to offer

sweet reminders

how along the way

our lives interact

in as magical way

might the landscape

of this mortality

give reason we

can know

the familiar

as well

as confusion

in a continuum

we have not

lost our way.

 

 

My Personal Insomnia

Step into my world

a man

frazzled yet still

a remarkable breather

able to stand

to negotiate

appreciate some aspect

of life.

 

Not perhaps until the day

for tonight,

his life remains behind

invisible bars

that only allow him

to remind,

to replay,

to re-evaluate

and always the same thing

every time

no solution,

only another night,

he won’t sleep

he might rather weep.

 

The insomniac on so many

levels,

this one though has a simple

solution,

stop checking for the same outcome

the clicking, the wandering, the wishing,

an inevitable drain

in the human psyche

 

until finally he might realize

tomorrow is another day,

oh my

life really is a sad cliche.

Recalling Purpose

edge

Took a walk in the wilderness,

a forest to disappear in,

looked about me at all the pine,

the desert soil allows

eyes to drift as far as the edge

a world beyond me I’m told to

 

forget.

 

I’m here to be a sightseer,

to breathe in the mountain

air that raises my spirits

beyond the normalcy

far enough away

to help me perhaps

 

forget.

 

Tomorrow I will look upon

a landscape that stretches

the eye to forever,

a spiritual energy

so beyond personal recall,

meant to help us all

 

forget.

 

When soon our lives return

the better option

might be to find something

new. A purpose suggests

our lives have meaning,

we have a world we easily

 

forget.

 

Glance at the morning sky, the mellow

sound of birds in rainfall, we can never

 

forget.

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

Walk With Me

A ride through hell

night sky invisible

the mind on fire

a slow reckoning.

 

When inside a dream

we might walk alone

finding only silence

her differed mystique.

 

Life happens so bold

is this all there is

again and again

the reputation of love.

 

Tight spaces and weight

the sort of ride we fear

nowhere to go

miles beyond our comfort

 

zone, that place we know

subtle glance vanish

her heart his tears

wondering just how when.

 

Might without an ask

realize this is forever,

though hope again,

a reminder of nostalgia.

 

Step across that threshold,

the battered soul will

always remind always

the surface far and away.

 

Walk with me he said,

she gave a glance,

his favorite moment

her eyes rolling in smile.

 

If two people might

move beyond the status

quo to appreciate real

love, certain passion.

 

When last we spoke,

an icy crest had shadowed

what once was a fire

felt with the scope of time.

 

Oh to have that energy

Speak desire, our synergy