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Branch Breaking
the edifice of precipice and beyond
hair and silver coloured rain inside sprinkles of light
translucent negligee in pearl white waterdrops
the caress of soft legs and the dawn it wakes to
night talk into dreams the feel for shape and
the rudiment awakening to the sound of the body
the heartbeat palpitating in the unknown
rhythmic inside the eternal struggle
passing everything we forgive
forgiving everything we pass
reading a poem to pass the time
into Moroccan Red unchartered
cargo ships and a stored passage
a gushing spring of cliches and anti plot
a rolling wave simmering in the obscure
nights in Copenhagen forgetting somethings
blue with desire
the idea of travelling somewhere warmer
outside a cold dark fog and forest
odd stirrings and the occasional
echo in the trees
a branch breaks
and i hear it
or was that a footstep
in this a desert landscape
on top of sand
across everything i remember
forgetting everything i came across
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a beautiful sky awaits you
to sing the music of the cinnamon tree
beating inside the rhythm of a pastry
as for the whereabouts of my shovel
and a curbside mountain of snow
of my own - and a poem about colour
laid in crystal dating back to yesterday
with stretched hands
bound to the present
and arriving
a voice in the wind
begs the return of narciss
to the river's crescent
offering a reward in return
to see his face again
so i can
go !!!!! and become a castaway
and fly like spinoza
to slip and fall
down the slippery slope
of thought itself ...
and dispense with this final
hallucination called 'reason'
...
and away on wings of fibrous stone
like metaphors of what is real and
what is meant when something is
alluded to but can never be pointed
out
to see yourself, looking at yourself
with
a vague recollection of having been there
but forgetting how it's done
and then dreaming all over again
the sequence in which it follows
as you track your footsteps
back to the beginning
when everything was fire, water
wind and clay
and existence was only for a day
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the light stares into a window
casting shadows on a wall
in the contrast we find awareness
in the elements an open heart
to see again with new eyes
the shining on our faces
for love has spoken and given
itself and made pure again
the rose dances in the sunshine
showing colour to the wind
a scent to the greatness of fragrance
adding beauty in a breath
the tree stands in the vernal morning
unwavering in a soft cool wind
children climb her branches
finding comfort in the leaves
the world a holy playground
in land and ocean and sky
a place to find our connection
to the sacredness in its round
the rain a sounding instrument
its water the source of things
purifying those who drink it
giving happiness in the quenching
giving birth to a future
the moon grows in the twilight
the stars hold visions in blue transparent
where thoughts aspire for the heavens
each of us a mirror to what we hold as dear
each of us a gift wrapped in bows and coloured paper
the dawn an inspired awakening
the mid-day sun a towering strength
the afternoon found sleeping
our heads laid upon the grass
to be born again ourselves
to live and dream
to watch and listen carefully
to all the words we say
at times we forget
and become swallowed by ourselves
finding forgiveness in our sorrow
finding love in simple ways
dreams lucid in our happiness
of things to show us bliss
changing in the climate
finding ourselves again
and we grow to become better
at perceiving the divine and finding
in its mercy the joy of endless time
we capture images in our thoughts
that lead us to our heart
we share our stories so we don't feel so alone
we remember and forget as a process to find meaning
we hold court and place bets to insure our disbelieving
we suspend in dimensions and shape a world to come
we allow ourselves the time to be at peace with everyone
for time is the greatest of healings
we battle naked in a teardrop all of our mistakes
we create a universe of paradox to keep us interested
we speak and act in mercy
for the pleasure of another's company
and we marry to celebrate our love
we give ourselves to people
and share our knowledge of kind
we understand all of our approvals
as objects we borrow and find though
we delude ourselves endlessly
to fill the space of time
we learn from all our teachers
to sing our heart of songs
we strive for ideals to keep us company
on wings of a feathered morning
we make history in the telling
and set examples for remembering
and often we are fools and fall greatly
to scrape and bruise our knees
but we stand to try again
we ask forgiveness of ourselves
to accept our suffering
to not be angry with the world
and to heal from our afflictions
we love because this is what we do
as we try to do the good
so that the good is to be done
and none of us are perfect in the beautiful opaque
though the stars seem without fault
in our dreams and thoughts to make
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