A Dream of Our Reality

Cobalt sky, the wind is fair
no sign of closure anywhere
we brush sweetly the softness, the fern
can you smell the aroma
I drop my gaze, you turn
in my dream the scent is gone
you are gone.

Comes the night
and you as sparrow taking flight
high above the soil we are rooted
still the wind its scent so fair
here in root, no sign
not here or there
then the breaking dawn
your wings unfurled
caress the mountain air.

Fresh dew, renewed morning
vibrant color of life
you take nest beside me
curious, intriguing wife
A new scent? A new sound?
A softness smoother than silk
here in safety the taste of a mother's milk
the new egg, the bonding seed
no exception for my love exceeds.

In the Early Morning, Comes

My child was born this morning at nine
while angels kept watch
dancing in time

She raised up for a moment maybe, or two
we heard heaven sounding
we knew it was true

She lay in the arms
of new mother this babe
cocooned in loves warmth
like a star that won't fade

As the sunrise expected
we awaited her coming
while angels kept watch
their instruments humming

This moment of time
frozen, so still as to say
"I am coming world..."
queue the trumpets and play

With a deafening sound
a renewed sense of meaning
this child of mine
of whom I've been dreaming

Writers Block

Writers block, writers block, writers block, writers block, writers block, writers block, writers block, writers block, writers block.  Is there any cure for writers block or are original thoughts as fleeting and spontaneous as dreams.  A dream; we cannot hold fast to the entirety of a dream - one can only remember fragmented pieces and hope they somehow come together.  

A man dreamed that he was walking along a flowered path and so desired to someday be free of worry, create something important with his hands, and enjoy the beauty that surrounded the path he was on.  But the man found that his path was filled with obstacles that impeded his ability to see the beauty, his mind was busy trying to figure out a way around the obstacles and his hands wringing in frustration.  So the man mustered his patience, sat down in front of the mountain of obstacles and began to think of a way to get to the other side.  He studied the obstacles in every detail but found that there were so many obstacles piled up and intertwined with each other that he could not identify one from another.  The man’s hands nervously fidgeted as he continued to study the insurmountable mess before him for he felt no desire to give up his journey or let the obstacles permanently impede his way.  The day turned into night and the night turned into day and the man continued to sit staring at the obstacles in bewilderment.  His hands began to hurt and his mind began to ache for he had not stopped ringing his hands or studying the obstacles since he began.  More nights and days went by until days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.  

The man stopped ringing his hands to scratch his head and noticed that his hair had grown long.  Unaware of the amount of time that had passed the man touched his hand to his mouth in confusion.  The man jumped up to his feet with a start and soon realized that his face was covered in hair as well.  The man became aware of a bad smell that was coming from his clothes but could not understand why or how it got there.  All of these changes to the man’s appearance scared him and he could not imagine how any of it could have happened without him knowing about it.  The man looked up and still the pile of mixed up obstacles stood before him.  But now, the man was so perplexed by his sudden change in appearance, that he had quickly forgotten why he was standing in the middle of the road, or what significance these many things in front of him had.  The man walked away mumbling to himself in utter confusion.

There is No Cure, Only Now

I weep for the loss of familial ties

A once and grand affair

I shed water of my own free will

From whence it was not there

Amidst much toil and in these throes

Like a sinew marred but binding

There is one who keeps with me

Then harkens to reminding

Antagonism and pain are human

Though thru the eddy’s flow

Some reach the apex of their love

In the works and deeds they sow

There is no cure for which is suffered

only here and now

The current takes us where we need

Sapient when and how

The Art Surreal

Can I convey in simple words at all the world she gives me

how such natural things have gone unclaimed

For so long it seems, bypassed in dreams such beauty I've forgotten.

Her thought unbarred, my vision cleansed for these are gifts not asked

her words release me,

her mind intrigues me,

I so wish the time to pass

Show me the forest and simple things it seems I've lost

for time has left me here beside her

my wits are cast across

The river now seems full of life and chance

and even though the music stops I cannot help but dance

Intoxicated by her scent of spring; the rain

come down on me a gentle way

and somehow makes me sane.

Should she know the way it changed me,

the kiss and sand alone,

how an eternity I'd like to spend in study

of she and what we've sewn

All of this, in and by any other name it's true,

might be considered only something different, something new

Yet my heart and mind as one can see

what little my eyes reveal,

the unique nature of what I've found

In her an art surreal.

Fade to Black

What lay ahead is uncertain, not likely easy.

A journey long spent in solitude but for those

in memory and dream.

There are those who know the way; I have yet

to make the acquaintance.

Alone in dark water's shallows and cast away

Voices cry out for help but silence is their only

Answer.

Faint echoes of familiar ghosts.

Crying freedom, drowning desires

and thoughts fade to black. 

Innocence Plays

In the park fast at play

While parents read amidst the spray

And all among them the swirl of fun

Basking sweetly beneath the sun

Its rays so bright we can almost remember

A time we’d play in innocent splendor

The child races through the activity

Soaked to the bone

A private oasis in the city

The squeals and shrieks of absolute bliss

As childhood song brushes our ears like a kiss

There, among the congregation at play

For a moment it’s me in that…certain yesterday

But then, as innocence plays in the lingering laughter

I’ve returned to watch over, now

Here and ever after