A  flock  of  wild  geese
have  just  flown  by.

Very  pleasing  
to  the  eye.

I'm  in  the  heart
of  nature  here.

Quite  content
with  little  fear.

Mother  nature  works  away
something  new  turns  up  each  day.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK. 2016.

I have loved you longer than time
Walked with you before I had legs
And told you many times
Without the mouth to speak
Or the air to breathe
I have loved you longer than space
Collected your dust before the stars
And felt you many times
Without the hands to hold
Or the fingers to touch

I loved you in the ocean
And swam between your knees
I loved you in the sky
In your kiss of gentle breeze
You knew my face
Before your eyes could see
You felt me
Before skin

I have loved you before mountains
And before rivers carved the rock
I loved your canyons
Your precipices
Your crevices
When there was no earth and no sun

I have loved you
Before I knew what love was

That in which appearances appear
in which every-thing appears
as an appearance..
Trying here to shake the objectivity
which seems impossible
short of Silence..
But our everyday intuition
tells us that there is __
in which we experience every-thing..
And this __ we find
to be permanent
not that which comes and goes..
Our language constricts and hides
that for which we are searching..
Ending the search
reveals our __
our unnamed Identity...

I can touch you now
The streets are places I walk in
Sometimes full of life
I can hear you now
The music is always playing
Sometimes beautiful
I can see you now
The mornings a painted landscape
Sometimes colorful
I can love you now
The heart is a vessel that carries me
Sometimes where you are

But for how long?
How long is now?
Is right now
All we have?
If right now it is ending
How long can I stay strong?

I can feel you know
That your skin becomes hateful daggers
Sometimes
Painful

The love I have is tainted
By the poison of the end
And my knowledge
That nothing lasts
Forever

How long do we have?
How long do I have?

Writing at night is easy---
Living in the safe poetic world , creating private visuals -
to blot out paltry expectations
Naked before people that hurt for amusement ,
dying a little each hour but unable to fly away
The inverted turtle struggling in the noonday Sun
A bullet without the freedom provided by a gun
Forgotten son ... Forgotten son ...Move on as he'll
never amount to anything at all
Writing your feelings on scrap paper you stupid little boy