Archive for April, 2014

Writing is my Gift.

May I ask, what’s yours?

Let us resolve- not

to keep these ‘yond locked Doors.

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Susceptible to Change-

like the weather-

is this land I roam;

great Fields of Heather,

 

boiling Seas of Grass,

Earth like planks of Wood,

Woods bursting upward-

each tree bears a hood.

An assemblage of clouds observes.

Listen. There’s applause

just for you!

A blessing from silver skies

says, “you’re appreciated.”

Let the many small hands

strike the walls and window-glass.

It’s all for you!

The clouds praise with rain,

their way of saying,

“you’re wonderful.”

It was when I realized that

shadows

have no color,

and sunlight is white,

that music turned to thunder

in my ears,

and I was blind for a moment,

because I had seen

and had to give back in to the mirage

I had been raised to see

in order to see once more.

It’s both difficult and easy to

imagine the Sky as something endless.

It is more difficult to imagine

everything under the Sky,

though both sky and the realm below it

have always been,

for every thing living and imagining,

between the two.

Wrung from my Eyes- tears-

shed with Love’s decay.

Spring blew forth a Spark,

which roared to Flame one day.

 

Sparks now dance in my Eyes,

the Flame within my chest-

I breathe, it rises,

and will until I- Rest.

This room I know so well

may be comfortable, but

it is also unchanged and unexciting.

Now the sky is gray, but I wonder:

do we make our own destinies?

When the sky turns blue,

I’ll set out

and follow whatever path

pulls me- a gray rope

that leads from my heart to

a destination.