Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Such Remorse

She does not see the deep, wide ocean
beneath her feet, full of savage things
that nip at heels and turn her wide eyes
into pools of memory amidst
the seaweed locks of hair her skin
has grown.

It is this untamed wilderness
that entreats the soul to break free
of the unending barbed wire fences
of which our minds are so fond.

Every discover is, really,
How do I make myself free?
repeated again and again and again.

No wonder we cry with such remorse
when we knit ourselves into
bone and skin once more.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The unknown into being

What do you know, my friend,
of ancient texts and sacred signs?
That the whole of life was known
and lost again
in these white deserts and mountain climbs.

This holy flower knows naught else
but the pattern of the universe
set into motion from our dreams.

Dream well.
Dream large.
Dream the unknown into being.


There is a path between these blades
lined with watchfulness and quiet wonder
through which I will journey back to myself
in ever increasing infinities.

Even as my steps move me away from you,
you are the fabric that has bound these feet,
wet and sodden from the day's humility
and limitless joy.

Thank you for these teachings, these brave
convoys of unerring love.