where once was singing
a fallen wren’s nest baking
on sunny blacktop

When I was a boy,
I lived near wilderness,

and on cold, bittersweet,
windy-sky days
I sometimes ventured out by myself

to sit
and feel
and smell
the crisp wind,

and I could feel myself

in the trees,
in the sharp,
rotted-quartz rocks

and the red clay earth.

Sometimes, very rarely,
if you are lucky,
you might meet someone
out of nowhere—
who teaches you
to smile,
even when your heart
is heavy with pain
and your eyes
are filled with tears.

Not a dystopian world we are living in.
That's just our imagination and way of thinking.
If the world were dystopian,
We would have been dreaming of utopia to live in.

A cognitive shift
Seeing the reality.
A state of awe
With transcendent quality.

When hit by the truth -
An overwhelming emotion.
Appreciation of beauty,
Increased sense of connection.

Shift in self-concept,
It could be transformative.
Sense of fragility
From a different perspective.

Hatred with violence
And the fear within.
Freedom from distress,
Tranquility lingering.

Only fairness,
A state of harmony.
Presence of justice -
A true symphony.

Peace is not a treaty.
It's the truth.

wearing thin
years betwixt
now and then

coming together
childhood huddle
whispered words

story told
story read
story writ

so forgotten
very obscure
gone forever

solitudes kingdom
solitudes reign
solitudes evisceration

a star for daylight
candle flames for night

darkening shadow
cloud formation

a moon to wane
a dream forgot