tears on yon rosy cheek
make bravest men, meek

each issue of nagging jaw
swing of a mortal claw

round tables of legend
always beyond reach

and wet dog hair never
fails to make you sneeze

a sail without its wind
prevailing
       and oars without waters
deep
       within heaving chest
spraying cheeks moist

Into a new dark age we go,
Marching with voices loud and clear,
The terrain shifts, our minds untrained,
Pioneers of a vast unexplored,
Where challenges hide in the unseen,
And bright lights beckon, waiting for us.

The condition of our hearts has changed,
As we careen through shadows and light,
Year upon year, we seek to define
The darknesses that loom on our horizon,
Searching for meaning in the dark expanse,
To harness what we’ve yet to understand.

Yet, in this vastness, a spark ignites,
A whetted appetite for tomorrows,
We march into the unknown, drawn near
To whispers of hope, where the brave may tread.
Into itself, beyond vast darkness,
The lights beckon, urging us to explore.

Breathe in -  aspire
breathe out -  expire
my aspiration knows no expiration.

With each sunset  
there be -  sunrise awaits
and therein lies my expiation.

And here, a dowry stay
a muse forlorn, receive
what could, no longer can.

Here in a downy refuge lay,
this germinant resolve:
what I was I no longer am.

Tendril wafted dunes
of barren sands waffle,
swirl across mile
upon mile in every direction-
your face appears a horizon away,
there is little comfort found
in accompanying echoes.

Drifting sticks
wail in the pitched wind,
stretched on distant recollection-
stylus of the scribe named Regret;
each flurrying breeze
turns a new page,
taking with it freshly shed tears.

Foetid droppings
of some wastrel desert vagabond
provide a vivid reminder
of how it can never be again,
to kick it away
would only contaminate
these well-worn wandering shoes.

Head facing forward
wherever the nose points
except in the back of the mind
where the oasis burbles-
each leafy frond conceals
intimate moments now buried
within the unmindful desert's gut.

We have in general, as a society
Gone into an evolutionary stupor
Waiting for things to “happen to us;”
And having thus become reactionary
Instead of pioneering proactivity
(Which has been a hallmark and
A badge or merit we have carried
Through the centuries until now)
Slumber until we begin to live again
Lift our gaze from our lint-free navels
And look around; walk and be a part
Of this existence, this is no dream...
This is no nightmare... never has...
We can rouse ourselves & each other
Raise a bugle sound for one and all!

In the flow of days and nights,
awareness intertwines with time,
each moment birthed anew.

Full consciousness breathes
within the heartbeat of change,
not separate, but entwined with life's pulse.

The truth ignites not a fire,
but a gentle dawn,
easing shadows into light.

Presence is not static,
but dances with each breath,
each blink of an eye.

Wisdom arises not from
silent knowing alone,
but from the Symphony of lived experience,
from our stories and scars.

The view is not timeless,
but ever-evolving,
as the river of life flows,
we flow along within it.

Doubt settles like a creeping mist,
clouding judgments, turning paths uncertain.
In its shadow, anger ignites,
a wildfire consuming calm,
its heat searing every thought.

Guilt stands vigilant, a sentinel of past deeds,
binding the heart with heavy links,
its weight a relentless reminder.
Grief walks beside, a silent companion,
its presence a heavy mist,
changing the landscape of the soul.

Shame cloaks itself in invisibility,
a critic whispering in hushed tones,
distorting reflections with harsh judgments.
Under life's pressure, we navigate,
seeking light in the fog of doubt,
finding resilience in the wildfire of anger.

We unshackle from guilt's chains,
embrace the silent walks with grief,
and step into the light,
casting off the cloak of shame,
transforming under pressure,
becoming stronger, shining bright.