Winter Sky
Straw sky
Westerly
Moonless, Sunless,
Starless
Leaveless trees point gnarly
fingers
to the heavens
deepening into
darkness.
Frayed and tattered
demons
Lucid praying
A feeling beyond
touch
Beyond fear or
sadness
A feeling unlike
hope
Without reason
Formless
Yet delineated
Like
constellations
I make motions with my
hands,
move my skin into
contact
with ineffable
realms.
Move, oozing
miasma.
Creating signs in faint
luminescence.
Bit by bit they
encompass
the night's
horizon.
But there is more.
It comes to me in brief
emanation.
Droning, encircling, swooping
in and out.
I organize a study
chamber.
Pull out maps and
ruler.
Set my quill to taking
notes.
Images engaged in excited
conversation
pull me in to their heady
company.
I can feel the sky breaking
around me.
Bits of colored prisms
falling.
Make a wish.
And Why Not Now?
The 4th dimension embraced to
spatial 3.
Length, width, depth
--
will may move
within.
Yet we travel always in
time,
whether we want or even
know.
Ever onward through
duration;
moment to moment
encompassing all of our
lives.
And yet they say there is no
time,
only now.
Every precious second, every
interminable hour,
every slippery slovenly
unrelivable day,
an unrelenting onward and inward
and outward,
soulesque
surrounding.
Where is now?
Yes, everywhere, of course, but
how do we divine,
make sense,
manifest intention,
measure meaning to instant that
expands into infinite
unknown?
How do we comprehend what
extends true and real,
stands the test of
time,
that continuous emergence,
strands
playing in the breeze entangling
and evolving?
How do we tame Now
and make a dance of time,
swinging and swaying,
executing formal twirls of
shadow
and light to uplifted
applause?
How do we account for time,
yet spend it like raindrops,
yet savor forever
awakening?
If it must be done, it must be
done now!
There is no waiting room in
eternity.
Yet there is no being
done.
There is only doing, and being,
and bravely swimming uncharted
seas.
Not with a Bang
Stillness.
Light calmly shines
through bare-branch
silhouettes.
Ice, frozen in time
sparkles, giving no
reasons.
Still. Cold.
Natural cycles.
Out on the battlefield of
man,
brutal bleeding,
shattering of bones and
dreams
too loud and crazed
to be heard
reverberating in shattered
brains.
Once a molten planet
shot out of star
stuff
creating plains and
seas,
rocky terrain,
spinning so merrily
with no idea of
sadness
set into motion.
Spiraling cycles.
In crystal stillness
frozen tears break and
fall
slowly, silently, into
time,
knowing not what we have
wrought.
ago and
away
Long ago and far
away
In the inner
plains of time
A fair voice was
heard to say
We will meet to
love someday.
Through centuries
of waking dream
Varied tongues
have shared the rhyme
Each meeting, new
though it may seem,
Another pattern
in the scheme.
Running now
through you and me
A thread, a wisp
of fleeting song --
An ever-mending
tapestry --
This treasured
bit of life we see.
awaiting the new
anticipating deleting
old reviews,
debts no longer due
hoping that greeting
"Happy! Celebration"
proves true
