No special words,
no secret sauce,
just linear passages spoken into the quiet soul
of the day,
wrenched of all that remained-
with winter comes hibernation,
a dedicated sleep-
sometimes the pen must stop in order
for a breath to be taken-
my watch stops until spring*

I went to bed lying down,
and awoke standing-
dreaming aloud of the what and
the who that matters-
heavy lids were rustled by beams of light that dashed
like a honed edge
and pierced like a bullet-
that sun entered my world like warm breath into
January air,
slowly like a cat in waiting-
deeply it went,
beyond sinew and gristle,
between muscle and blood,
far beneath atoms and the scattered bodies
of the soul-
to the beginning it went,
to the core,
the root,
the birth of all things,
and I understood-
I went to bed lying down,
and awoke standing within
the womb of where it all began,
and listened,
and heard,
and with the breadth of my heart,
observed-
dreaming aloud of the what and the who,
until the sun fed that knowledge like water
to the seed*

The mirror did not lie, as it translated the language
of my skin into the sharp golden light of a nameless
afternoon,
words steeped like honey into the heat of the day-
it voiced the truth of my two lane road
through the clear eyes of a child,
smooth and unblemished,
without the alpine crevasses of the ticking clock,
and the ravages of cutting winds-
its words were blunt,
without pretense,
as it spoke each line and blemish in detail-
roadmaps where I’ve been,
some gravel, others paved, but most not yet
plotted-
it spoke of a trail,
the one trail where all others collide,
the course whose journey is yet to be defined,
that long road whose sun sits patiently at the
end…
the mirror did not lie as it spoke to me,
and my feet edged nearer to the trail of which it
spoke,
the one of purpose,
the trail that was written long before it was
discovered*

You put your lips to me,
and I knew-
yesterday was sealed a bit tighter,
and tomorrow’s grip loosened enough
for the cool breeze to trickle in,
gently at first-
have you ever watched a storm tumble in
from the horizon…
distant grumbles hiding behind the cover
of the clouds,
distant grumbles shattering the calm in
increasingly jarring waves,
distant grumbles bursting free of all shackles
and barriers and enclosures-
you put your lips to me, and I knew-
yesterday dried up like aged, forgotten earth,
and tomorrow was fed by the freedom of that rolling
storm,
all grumbles tempered by the meaning in your touch-
my lips, though lost, found you*

Just as you learn, you can unlearn all the
toxic layers that weave around the soul like barbed
wire and strangling vines-
acceptance is a word used by those strong enough
to embrace the world as it is,
things as they are,
with peace and good will-
just as you find, you can
lose,
and just like that, you can reconstruct-
acceptance is a word used by those strong enough
to understand-
for yesterday,
today,
and for what tomorrow may still bring*

You are my first thought as the dawn crawls
sleepily through the shutters to kiss me awake
each morning,
the final song as I close my eyes each night to
swim into starlit worlds-
seasons fade, but they return each year with
vigor,
just as flowers bloom under the sun’s embrace-
it just is*

I put my ear to the cold blocks of stone,
craggy slabs deftly fitted and positioned,
a makeshift wall built of stone and earth,
erected for a reason only known to time-
“why”, the wind whispered in a child’s voice-
starlight glinted off of the heights and told a story
with each passing flutter,
stories of love stronger than any stone stacked
on that barricade,
stories of love more dense than any blockade
or bulwark or enclosure ever constructed by man-
“why”, the child whispered gently into the wind,
a voice carried with the precision of an old
explorer deep into the heart,
and with a ferocity that eroded the edges
of the ramparts smooth-
I put my ear to the warm blocks of stone,
heated by the tenderness of the voice carried
so gingerly on the wind,
its echo resonating off of the walls and shattering
them to rubble,
until the sun shone through in threads of yellow
and red-
I breathed and took a step into the open arms
of faith*

There is a hard reality in the sinews of
stone-
a bitter grain left sharp or worn smooth
depending on its story,
harsh and stoic and immovable-
castles have been constructed using them,
foundations have crumbled as a result of them,
yet they are scattered on every trail, every road,
every winding path,
real and true-
each with a story to tell*

There is a glow in your eyes,
coated in the stardust of creation-
waxing globes that melt through my
windows and split the shades with
slashes of green moonlight
and slivers of distant worlds
that no foot has ever tainted-
layers of muted light lining my sleep
like sheets of music,
like lines of poetry written in shadows
and footprints,
crumbs on a trail leading into a fog
as thick as wildflowers through a lost
glade-
where is my map, my compass,
where are my bearings,
as the stars hide their whispers
behind haughty clouds-
like lines of poetry written in shadows
and footprints,
checkmarks on a path lit by the fire
in your eyes*

Grumble your way across the sky,
in streaks of stuttered booms and flashes
and wails of thunderous energy,
the earth quivering beneath my feet with
every powerful roar-
drift from blue to brown and wipe me clean-
blast away the blindfold,
tremble the earth and shatter this shell with it,
roaring just as you are roaring-
the sun is still there, despite the clouds,
the wind still blows, and the grass has never
forgotten the path to it-
off into the distance you go…
your voice becoming faint and indiscernible,
until the quiet returns-
I can hear the tick of my watch once more*