the mist of my voice
lays gently on the cold window
the sun is yet to shine
as i leave my comfort behind
still warm and fetal beneath
duck down doona's

i tell the house goodbye
and that i will return, anon.
and step forth into the frozen dew
sparkling on the winter faded lawn

once in the car, I sigh with deep breath
this is something that needs be done
but my heart falters at leaving the nest

for it is away i must go, to find some rest
it is to leave in order to stay, to be my my best
each year i take this small season of me
each year i go... go be alone in order to hone
my mind and shed dark blue barnacles
so upon my return my boat runs smooth
through river and wave, calm and typhoon

i retreat from this world and this world from me
i go find a place full of water and tree
and there i sit and sleep and walk,
very little do I talk, i do not perform
or  teach, i do not quest or overreach

i am but pebble in a river,
the water, washes and reforms me
i am but budding leaf, on tree
the sun energises me

I am snail, content,
within my fragile shell

I am quiescent, within my soul

The creaking of that old chair is all which they could hear,
''take a seat'' he said and move it near,
he would tell a story of which he was very fond;
it included a bike, an old friend, and a huge duck pond;
He spoke these words time and time,
no remembrance of telling it but, once more would be fine,
He chuckled and chuckled at the top of his lungs
telling of his friend and how off his bike he was flung,
With a smile, he glanced at the family around
a sudden moment of silence;
'' Whats your name?'' he frowned
A nervous laughter from his daughter he heard :
But the man? he just stared.
Unsure of these people who once more came to visit,
''story telling is my job, so your problem what is it?!''
His voice he projected, confusion portrayed;
great sadness in his family, but by his side they stayed.

As the day is bled into the river
I watch the coming and going.

Place me in them
each one has a name like me
a home and a family
where their mind work laden
would have a heart to anchor
children to love and care for
a night to stir the fire
to burn all the bitterness
and be reborn the next morn
to shuttle one bank to the other
of the wide river.

I marvel at the chance
of meeting them once
suffering the absurd pain
of never crossing their path again.

...you write the TRUTH
nobody wants to
READ IT.



SøułSurvivør
(C) 8/1/2017

the peace of your inner-self
combines with all peaceful souls

never underestimate the power of this peace
to reach out and touch a broken world.

peacemakers in a world at war with itself
you know the daily return, daily battle, to evoke love.

It's not the way you look at me
Or how your hair blows in the breeze
It's not how you smile like a night on the town
Or the skip of my heart when you are around

It's not in the way that you beautifully dress
Although I am always beyond impressed
It's not any of those although they're nice
It's more of the fact that you are mine

It's not in the shine of your radiant glow
Or how to me your love is gently shown
It's not in the fact that you're all I need
Or the softness of touch when you hold me

It's not that you take my breath away
Or the way you make it all okay
It's not in any of those things I so often find
It's more of the fact that you are mine

You are all idol worshippers
claiming to be children of
a specific god you love,

but now you bow to
your wage driven existences.

Your gods are corporations.

So, you sacrifice your rationality
to your favorite sports team,

and you sacrifice your health
to your favorite brand of
chemically saturated food,

and you sacrifice your poor
to the pocket books of the
politician’s donor,

and you sacrifice foreigners
to the military industrial complex,

and you sacrifice me,
your child of daydreams
and hopefuls scheme of a better humanity,
to the ease of self-pleasure
and precariously pursued ignorance.

To this tiredness add heaviness,
a weighting down of me.
it's like i'm carrying a burden
but
it's one I cannot see.

There are beads of sweat upon my brow and yet somehow I'm cold,

life feels like a ton of lead if lead equates to getting old.

I can remember when on being young it wasn't so
I used to float along the forest paths moving to and fro

but the green shoots they've all sprouted
I never doubted that they would

I am heavy with the evening light that slowly fades
shaded by the Autumn night in these, my favourite glades,

to lay me down and sleep at last
to wait until all time has passed,
I am not alone.

Today is a day of wondering. A thought hit me; I thought the move from LA to New Orleans was a "major" change and then from New Orleans to Memphis...it was just a change, within "The Change". The Journey is "The Change". There are things, I admit, the scare me...(a sudden fright, an alarm, with little or no reason: a time or condition of alarm or worry.) Feeling it, experiencing it and letting it go...putting it back in the flow and moving forward.
So, today a day of wondering, surrendering, releasing and letting go, being focus and aware.  For me, that's is one of the ways to make it work...also adding tons of Love to it. Standing in Gratitude, right here, right now, in the present moment...scary and uncomfortable but very, very doable. This is one of my days to DOIT!  Smiling...
Y'all have a Glorious day! continue it one step at a time and sharing the good, love, joy, happiness, all that stuff with others.  BIG SMILES to everyone, hugs and kisses!