Handsome essences
stir my soul
into recognition of
spontaneous
possibility
a hint
of seduction
in every breeze
in every
vulnerably
careless
sensitive
breath

humbly elegant
purely free

a character in a moment
a truth and a possibility

a knowing and a dream
in perfect reality

it's strange
the eeriness of it
the quiet, constant
depth of it
the full, eternal
depth of it,
the fear, the space
held in place
the rhythmic, silent
depth of it
the presence, the point
in simple understanding
the nuance,
the place
the presence
in it

2014

in fifty, one hundred years, two hundred (or more?)
all that may remain is an eroding stone
to someone who once was a me

walking dapper down the street
or hobbling with a cane in the park
or a little boy with messy blond hair...

how many hairs have blown in the breeze?
how many have yet to blow in a breeze?

cemeteries are thoughtful places
I share space with them who came before
I will be them   they were (a) me
it is early afternoon

I could sit forever
personifying the life
the inquisitive soul
recognizes in death

the essence of life
is being in the moment
the moment is being
reflected in clarity

life is revitalized in the wind
we repent in crowded spaces
our heart feels innocence
a wise innocence

a subtle, a humble
fluid song, a retreat
resonating into
an infinite cosmos

I wake up in the morning
I feel life, I feel its space
I ponder myself, I feel myself
I feel into truth and innate
possibility is wise grace
like the first rays of sun on my face