Pilgrimage

A solitary torch, a solitary man

who led a solitary life,

wondered what the world held

that all the people moved about.

So he wandered

beneath the stars,

and found an alcove

arch of stone,

supported by a wall

with two entrances

on opposite sides.

Did they lead to different places, or meet again?

He stood there, now knowing which way to go, unable to choose.

He is there still, but the fire has gone out,

the stars no longer shine,

and within his never ending

quest of questions,

treasures of answers

remain gathering dust.

Knowledge Among Ruins

I was lost, for how long I don’t remember.

There was only day night, hill and river, hill and river.

At the summit lay the ruins of a long forgotten castle, or fort,

pummeled by centuries of elements.

It sat now like a petrified toad on the hillside, with only

the sighing mountains for company.

Taking shelter from the strengthening winds,

I sat, closing my eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion of the climb.

Beneath your hands, a treasure lies…

A voice, but disembodied.

Go on, partake…

I scratched the soil with calloused fingers.

Open, and speak the words…

“I don’t know the language.”

It will know you, traveler. Speak them.

And so I did.

I no longer see the ruins, the sun, the starry sky, the sentient stones, the mountains, the spring grass, nor dunes of frosted snow.

I have become all,  my memory seeded into the land, and

all the land seeded into me.

The book still lies just beneath the spongy soil’s surface.

Partake…

What Will You Show Me?

What will you show me?

“What do you see?”

Two constellations,

One you, and one me.

“What are we doing there?”

Dancing in space,

chasing the moon

in a wild, giddy race.

“What will you show me?”

What do you see?

“Us in a floating cloud,

restless and free.”

Where are we going?

“Who cares and who knows?

“We’re riding a cloud so

it’s where the wind blows!”

But all things considered

of all we can be,

I’m glad that you’re here with me

under this tree.

The Last Sunset

Do they know?

Should I tell them?

Are they worthy of the knowledge?

Am I?

I climb this tower to see what others can’t,

to feel what others won’t.

A whisper in my mind that

warmed my heart and chilled my soul

said, “This is the last one.”

I wanted to jump down, to cry out,

to warn, to incite panic that we might

save ourselves.

But the colors drew me in,

the breeze touched my face like a loving mother,

and I felt Time begin to die.

He took me from the tower as he passed,

and there would be no tomorrow, and no memory

of the last earthly glory my weary eyes witnessed

in this life.

And all the tears of the all the other watchers mingled with my own,

and together,

we put out the sun.

Be True

She is leaving now, but perhaps not forever.

Her desire was for better,

but nothing improved.

Life itself eluded her, and the wrong things

occupied her time and body.

There was no longer

anything or anyone

to keep her bound,

and in the incorporeal realm

of her wishes,

not a one came true.

She was not true to herself,

and she would make that right.

It would be today.

It would be right now.

But maybe, just maybe,

not forever.

The Child and The Drum

From behind the curtain

her voice

holds tremolo and vibrato,

high and clear,

sweet and lilting,

with a hint of poignant sadness.

The drum pushes, pulses

her ululations from underneath,

building the bridge

that connects

the world to the origin

of its song,

evolved,

forgotten, debated,

documented, erased,

burned, rescued,

savaged and salvaged,

but ever

created.

The child and the drum.

Two become one,

and the heartbeat

keeps the time of memory,

even now.