we shape

Your search

The things you look for

They’re on the inside

 

You look outward, for inspiration and hope

We all seek those palatable things

 

Our eyes are strong and we seek with them

As we look past

 

The framework is ours.

Light or soft.

 

We bend it through our lenses

And describe it to our service

 

Wilting in our own discrimination

 

Celebrate, then fake, onto your shapely fate

No one owns this life but you

 

We’ll all lay down when the dark sets in.

Hardwood

No different from a tree are we.

Opportunity for life, and strife.

 Subject to fates entropy.

 

Strong light makes for brave hearts and thirsty souls

Shade is never hot enough

 We get a chance to grow and break

Maybe grow again

 

Seasons change from wet to dry

Dark to bright

And dark again

 

Put another ring around me

No measure of its girth

I’ll take that season’s withered growth

And know it as a blessing.

 

Some will stand and die and stay

Others break and fall

 

Remember we’re a forest though

And not one lonely tree

 

Surrounded by all types and shapes

To balance all of our mistakes

For furniture or garden stakes

You’ll grow because you have to.

 

When you kick off a cast made of glass that fast

 

You surround yourself with shards, sharp and hard, your discard

 

Every step with that tender foot you gotta look

 

To insure that the steps you take don’t break

 

The skin that you healed

 

With the cast made of glass

A sliver of the stone

You see its aggregations

And the mountains that they formed

But all you are is witness to a sliver of the stone


Your excited by the scale

And the history no one knows

The ancient times while we were small

Stories locked into the grains


Cracks of light

Passages tight


Its just a bunch of rocks you know

Broken by old ice and snow

Old timers said a beach was there


Rust across the tower's top

A view by any means


Approached at night

With surly feet


Behind you the moon wood peer.


Over your shoulder , competing against the sunrise

Smooth wind will wrap the trees and leave you with nothing.


Something


Your here


Because you knew you had to be.

"Please don't slip"

Spoken slyly to the Spirit from the Soul.

"Watch your step each way, but guide me up into the place that you reside."

"Oh soul"  the Spirit shouted in a tone of reprimand.

"Your an anchor not a sail, now keep our course West and true."


Arrogant and proud the Spirit caught the strongest wind.

It ripped at every part, stitches shredded across the sea.


Upon disintegration the Spirit looked back for the Soul.

"Save us now, Its not too late!" spoke the Spirit one last time.

The Soul sat in silence powerless, Nothing more than a witness to the destruction of the Spirit.


A sense of relief came over the Soul as the Spirit's pull expired.

A moment of peace stolen quickly by despair.


Without the Spirit the Soul has no purpose.

No need to secure a vessel without propulsion.

Little time had passed until the Soul dissolved into the sea.

Seasonal

Spring

A label for an ancient thing

I fight away the limerick.


Will water pour to nurture

Or drown out all the life


Is this when our fortune starts to turn?


Tertiary to those more defined.

Not warm enough and without blazen colors.


Who's left to seek  the subtle?


The germination, without notice, gives rise.

The greenest green and warmest water

Later to be coveted


Alas, no tribute to the Spring


Children know the summer's sun

The January snow

The Spring

Elements

Three letters

Two vowels and a consonant

 

It’s a combination

Most think of it as one thing

But it isn’t

 

Part is necessary and part is poison.

Most of the constituents burn.

 

When moving, it loses vowels and gains quantity

We only notice when our hair blows and our windows rattle

 

They are one and the same.

With motion comes power and significance.

Once air, now wind.

 

Beyond

The sun rises

It warms you and glows

When it leaves, there is the moon

It's subtle

It changes

You have to look sometimes to find it

Often it's obscured by clouds

What a joy to see the moon.

Mt. Rogers

Same as ever, it took a lot of pumps to get her going.

1984 was a long time ago.

Once in motion, we were on our way, doing what we do.

That drive is more arduous than it used to be.

 

Something about the hard work ahead

A combination of need and dread.

 

In that light, bristling white

I find a place that doesn’t hurt.

 

Charging in a dreamscape.

Having simple goals.

 

The playlist dictates tempo and heat

Some songs set you down,

No choice but to change.

 

You never want to stop.

Stopping means thinking.

 

Better to keep tempo and never let your mind catchup.

Only one is within your control.

The Bath

When it’s this cold you savor that moment. The sound of fluid wrestling through pipes is a promise.

The steam rises and instantly converts to an icy vapor.  Swirling vortexes of crystals appear like hallucinations.

You step through it and immerse yourself in a moment of comfort. If you’ve succeeded, it will be as hot as you can tolerate.

This is when you like being human.

 

After those first delicious moments though, we begin to adjust.

Our bodies strike a balance with that temperature.

Exhilaration is replaced by satisfaction.

Later still, we even start to cool.

 

Is there any hot water left?

What if there isn’t?

If we try to add hot, we may instead be getting cold.

That would make the bath intolerable and spoil our last refuge for heat.

If there is hot water, there may be

a second chance at being warm.

It will never be like when you first stepped in.

That moment has passed and eventually you’ll have to get out.

Did you even need to bathe, or was the heat just too much to pass up?

 

Some days it’s better to stay dirty.

 

 

 

Synthetic

I slipped down to that secret space

A place where I could hide

Suspenseful

Gave a try and wondered why

I left that spot and on my way


At first on track then taken back

Derailed so fast

Blitzed by the effect


Locked down to a neutral space

A barrel pointed at my face

Paralyzed by fear


I couldn't wait to escape

No place to hide

I wondered why


I think back to the rifles  aim



The science in my mind was sound

But curiosity was king


Just like the cat, I thought of that

Time did what it could do


That moment past

And back to rest


Even now I wonder about the angle of the gun



Did fate let loose its guiding hand

Was paranoia in command

There's much  I'll never understand

Who knows what lays in store.