Learn to feel satisfied,
even when
you are not full.



Sometimes we ask for more, even when we overflow. Then we should not complain if a tsunami happens . This is how it all begins. A wave is happy with it’s short dance to the shore and it merges back with the ocean happily. The wave that thinks it is the ocean and wants a separate identity gets engulfed by the ocean. Similarly we all are tied with beautiful heart strings. Why pull strings excessively and unravel! A gentle tug at your own strings diminishes the need for others to pull strings for you. Be happy wherever you are placed. One day you will know the ‘why’.

in the far east of the sands
of the great Mojave
with upright    
cheerful cactus  
and the Joshua tree    
for company  
    
(and oh my how they had dug in and held, no small feat in this climate)  
    
An old marker read  
    
here lies Uncle  
Uncle was my horse  
it took two days in the hot sun  
to bury him    
but he was a very good horse  
Uncle RIP  
    
the sands had once formed a soft curve  
over the top of the cowboys hard work  
but now there was nothing but    
the weathered marker  
showing time passed  
with brittled barn wood heartbreak  
and memory drifting to the east with it  
    
like the coiling sands  
and their fine mimic    
of the rattlesnake  
slithering to meal  
twirling off towards the Joshua  
seeking to pile against him  
for ease and comfort  
and some rest  
    
it was surely a very hot wind  
that had carried the cowboy on  
after such a loss  
of a very good horse  
we will remember him now  
called Uncle  
    
(i am sure he was a noble steed and even in his eve of passing quite handsome to the cowboy)  
    
and surely that wind carried his sorrowful melody to the Joshua  
for cowboys often sing very sad songs  
and the Joshua heard the loss  
in the cowboy song  
and most likely wept    
a fortunes worth of affinity  
in tears of an evergreens nurture  
and sheltered him a moment in kind  
    
the cowboy head off  
long  
long ago  
in search of a hopeful Eden  
in search of new companions  
to lift his weariness  
and place his boots  
    
but for the Joshua  
his surprising elevation  
and ability to watch  
and remember  
long after the timber    
fades to forget  
nobody would  
    
and the sad cowboy  
in the blink of an eye  
far from the sands    
now to the west  
and under his own stone  
and the worn down of it  
    
and i become the Joshua  
and feel the time of this  
into my depths    
though they may be shallow  
they are strong  
they know their fortune    
and are kind to what is buried near  
    
and what might walk away from it

Wind blows
through the carcass
of an old ship run ashore
It beckons her ghosts
to board once more
She's sad
and she's lonely
in a harbor of sand
and her decks need the company
of those old scurvy hands

I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

II
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose all the lions get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Wake: the silver dusk returning
    Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
    Strands upon the eastern rims.

Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
    Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
    Straws the sky-pavilioned land.

Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
    Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
    "Who'll beyond the hills away?"

Towns and countries woo together,
    Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
    Lived to feast his heart with all.

Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
    Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
    Were not meant for man alive.

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
    Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
    There'll be time enough to sleep.

The winds out of the west land blow,
My friends have breathed them there;
Warm with the blood of lads I know
Comes east the sighing air.

It fanned their temples, filled their lungs,
Scattered their forelocks free;
My friends made words of it with tongues
That talk no more to me.

Their voices, dying as they fly,
Thick on the wind are sown;
The names of men blow soundless by,
My fellows' and my own.

Oh lads, at home I heard you plain,
But here your speech is still,
And down the sighing wind in vain
You hollo from the hill.

The wind and I, we both were there,
But neither long abode;
Now through the friendless world we fare
And sigh upon the road.

Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
What tune the enchantress plays
In aftermaths of soft September
Or under blanching mays,
For she and I were long acquainted
And I knew all her ways.

On russet floors, by waters idle,
The pine lets fall its cone;
The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
In leafy dells alone;
And traveller's joy beguiles in autumn
Hearts that have lost their own.

On acres of the seeded grasses
The changing burnish heaves;
Or marshalled under moons of harvest
Stand still all night the sheaves;
Or beeches strip in storms for winter
And stain the wind with leaves.

Posses, as I possessed a season,
The countries I resign,
Where over elmy plains the highway
Would mount the hills and shine,
And full of shade the pillared forest
Would murmur and be mine.

For nature, heartless, witless nature,
Will neither care nor know
What stranger's feet may find the meadow
And trespass there and go,
Nor ask amid the dews of morning
If they are mine or no.