We Breathe In The Woods

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Out here beyond the concrete and stale excess,

A certain community evolves like a wind-swept

Gale of unbridled beauty inside natural elegance.

~

Inside this forest of bush and briar, the green pines,

The essence of pristine glory our mother earth gives

So free is a waiting testament of a spiritual order.

~

I am a man seeking some solace in my day hoping

I once more can acknowledge how my life will

Evolve like the natural buds of spring in moisture.

~

Yet in shimmer I am compelled by a silent order exists

That although I suspect is real, still elusive to my

Grasp I believe will still make allowances with love.

~

I understand the business of honor and pride needs

Tender fantasy to allow each individual penance

A shout upon the rooftops of our key to happy lives.

~

While solemn I begin to rent a space from the land sacred

To our hearts. I only wish you remarkable delight … always.

What Calls Our Name

© Spencer Byles

© Spencer Byles

When we find water, that gurgling stream,

while sunlight sparkles the ambience we dream

might let me travel away from this time

when I couldn’t hang onto a rhyme,

a reason, a thoughtful enterprise

a purpose, with growing desire I rise

to the occasion

without indecision.

When mounting concern envelops my mind,

I look to the sky, its well, in my nature I find

solace in a stream, a part of the wood,

that place I would hide myself if I could,

only to suggest the concrete is a certain pain,

when the body makes contact, a bruise remain.

~

The city itself is a metaphor for strife

my God, could I ever begin my life,

if forever I am drawn by the task and need,

of thousands of bodies all taking the lead.

~

I stepped into the woods to sweet brush in green,

the fresh scent of pine, sounds of life serene,

I thought about what I had just left behind,

realized this is where my peace I’d find.

~

I wander alone through the city, a menacing arsenal

delivers winding avenues, escapes inside the pines tall.

Late Nights

Silence the tube

that distraction

a genius contraption

has me wallowing well into the night

the dark world surrounds me

without daily activity.

When I step outside

I feel the chill of discretion

everyone is hiding

deep inside the forest of our mind

we are all challenged by the silence.

When in the break of day

we can surround ourselves

with horns and traffic, faces and eyes

at night, in the twilight

all we are left with is imagination

the surreal reality of what lies around us

the unknown that we sometimes favor

quite readily rather than the known.

Step into a forest, a real woods

trees and brush that will envelop

any novice in the night sky

hope for a moonlit horizon

to help one traveler realize their way

to find their compass in the sky.

At night, while I now sit in silence

having extinguished modern electronics

I sometimes wonder

what is the attraction to my insomnia

beyond the reality of my quiet anxiety.

In the Woods by the Bridge

We did gather our energy

Listened to these sages

Tell stories of skeletons

Bones and Mother Nature

While outside the arctic air

Provided a sweet backdrop

Paths that had already

Been trampled, cried upon

In a forest nearby a bridge

Where in crossing remained

Numbing to its reality

Out here we’ll play with energy

Ice and snow ancestral strategy

And when fear arrives outside

The gateway, we can return in spirit