Rant on, my fellow stranger poet
who speaks with negative rhyme.
Rant, till the sun stops to shine.
and rains come, if you desire.
Rant, as my ears open
to hear your saga
in hopes a space in mind will open,

Come do hear what I have learned
as old age embraces me,
and my stride is slow.

"It is all in ones perspective.
whereby changing the thought,
changes the scene."
I whispered gently like wind.

"The day is filled with opportunity
to rise with sun to dance
and push away the clouds."
I echoed, hugging with eyes
the thin tall figure.

I stood with cane and intention
to anchor my words in his heart.
before continuing again.

"Its time to take the pieces of puzzle woes
and turn them around if you choose."
the wise sage said.
"For the road is wide
with so much to experience.
So much to connect to
when one awakes to the
Divine being inside."

""Oh to align to hear music of love
in this temporary construct of a lifetime
is a grand thing."
A grand thing,
as I turned, bowed and walked away.

Each day,
I count the highway signs
as I pass by,
hoping to follow them all
and tattoo them on my skin
with the dust of my tires.

Each day,
I drive the same route to work
and then home,
wishing,
just once,
my heart would go off-road.

Each night,
I mournfully regale the moon
with tales
of journeys great men traveled,
trips brave women blazed,
and my own bland,
listless meanderings between
work
and then home.

Each night,
the Moon beckons me
to chase the horizon
with open arms,
calls vehemently
for the chained thing
beating in my breast
to fly headfirst
into the Unknown.

One night
I will listen.

The weather only makes it worse.
Cicadas sounding off at dusk.
The flowers blooming in reverse.

Your hand in mine.
Pour yourself another drink:
bourbon, *******.
Her hand in mine.

Our backyard has gone black,
the summer’s vestigial fireflies
devoured by limbs and leaves.

Lie on your back
and listen to me,
decode the blades
of grass that tickle
your ears and neck.

Love or silence.
Which is worse?

We pull at words
like dark threads,
composing curtains
for the windows
of a waiting hearse.

I am that fragrant thought, still alive,
as a seed,one of nature's wonder
that sprout in a season not expected,
in your mind in a blue moon night.
Though we loved and lost without
knowing reasons and sans any regret,
We still would be probing for errors,
in the book of accounts love never can keep.

You were left alone for long, yet moved
by love that caressed your heart
with such intensity only once, that
made possible many flights together
with moon beams as wings of fantasy.
But that was before the tsunami hit,
just a memory now,but would last long!

Now, here the magic happens again,
as musky fragrance hovered
in the west wind,stirring passions,
I can't understand the dynamics of this:
somehow a beam of light hit,
my being telling me about,
your plight in a flash and
our hearts melted together,beating
making shrink the distance between us!
We touched each other's heart,felt
love traveling at the  speed of light.
The world suddenly looks a place brighter,
What if we wouldn't meet even once, hereafter.