Amongst the Yangtze

Amongst the Yangtze I feel sunlight, a hum of the forest breaks down the barrier that is capturing my thoughts. The return of Spring will also rise and greet anyone who is willing, to greet him. Legends declare my future, but I heard the decree- and my road shall split. Keep my hills and streams close at heart, but do not allow the smell of the city to make it here to the garden. What form is broken?

swallowing the sun

becoming more, or less
balance.

seek the cave, and the ridge
together.

putting the next step forward
trust.

this is the path I go
the way.

my way is not your way
peace.

chopping wood, blinking
the unconsciousness.

In love with man and spirit-
solitude.

The tower of my spirit becomes-
brighter as I swallow the sun.

Victory Garden

On a grey afternoon,
I put myself into the car
though after it started,
I wished for the blue bicycle.

The clouds were high
as the wind roared its motor.

I passed fields, homes, and a row of fences.
Dogs were out looking for me-
speaking to one another.

I caught the rhythm-
stretched in it.

A farmer was off to give the cattle food,
as I slowed my wheels.

The grey afternoon was different for all
who lived it.

Not like any other day,
and yet, it was.

The schools were closed,
but the buses passed me by.

As the last thought occurred to me,
as I saw the sign reading-
"Victory Garden."

"I wish I would have taken the blue bike,"
as I hummed.

The Halt

Slowly I take my steps, careful as I move.
The woods are dark now and I hear nothing familiar.

Crunching leaves and glimpses of stars through the trees
come to be the only hope- and a beacon they are.

Carrying it all- up
and back down, but I am too scared to stop.

No moon can I see, even he has abandoned me.
The drum of my heartbeat and the pulse in my soul are all to rely on.

Coming to a halt, I sleep in the snow.
And I take on the dreams of the ones who have slept there,
hoping that one day I will do it again.

The song I refused

Time moves like a freight train
passing up my town.

But off in the distance-
smoke can be seen, engines can be heard.

The calenders will lie to you,
but the past will come back.

Krishna helped me load my boxcar
but when it came down to it-
I couldn't do it.

The trouble with him is the flute he plays,
puts you in that mood.

I refused it like one refuses chocolate,
or a door-to-door salesman, "no thanks"
then I smile.

Hoping for Hope- Advent, Week 2

"Restore us again, O God of our salvation,"
-Psalm 84:4a

"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world..Hope, in this deep and powerful sense is not the same as joy that things are going well, as willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good."
-Vaclav Havel (Czech Republic)

Ocean Solitaire