Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Would you now go spitefully hating the sun
Or go viciously plundering pretty flower beds
Or go crushing underfoot, fall leaves in contempt
Or turn gently  into the fresh fold of snow?

Come, come, dear child, hold out thy hands
Let me gently embrace thy spindly frame
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.

If I told you which season you'd die in
Would you relent with ease, when the hour falls upon you?
Should you know I'm not as fearsome as most believe
Could you surrender the lent Light I must return?

You already know the answer without knowing
For it is not how you look, but how you look!
You no longer remember, it's been so long
So, I ask it plain: Would you really want to know?

You are not just a spoke on the wheel of Life
Which needs to, as the seasons, turn resolute
Yet you pass through them all, simultaneously
Save, your linear faculties confine your esoteric bridge.

Take joy in aestival airs, the apex of fruition
Springtime soil so easily squandered, bear in mind
Access  introspective glimpses with  hiemal hibernation
Autumnal foliage is but a screen, time to get real!

You cannot have the sunshine without the rain
Nor expect fine blossoms without fair travail
Seek thus the true bounty bedecked in full view
If you had but the seer's eyeless sight, dear guest.

As you travelled from one season to another
Did you live fully, even in between them?
Yes, the tiny labyrinth-passages you overlooked
Time to exact the price now run overdue.

Too attached you are to world and kin
For none of these, can you take with you
But beneficial acts and and good intent
Cosmic trick of genes is cecity delivered.

The one whose life you may regard so worthless
Retains a level which allows his soul to pass through
The eye of a needle, not measured in numbers
Hoist your soul on, tilt your core... I carry you home

So, come, wayworn traveller, hold out thy hands
Let me tenderly close thy brief visit here
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak, prithee
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.



Star Toucher, 24 March 2013
Written and submitted elsewhere for a while, till it reached its journey's end there...lol
As with all in life...like seasons which ever change, we are merely offered phases and afforded chances.....let's make the BEST of it, hey :-D
Writing from calm
placidity.
Calm, blankness, stark.

Perpetuate it
maintain,
always want this

this is a good outlet
by the leaves
serene,
calm is not boring
it is the opposite.
It burns with promise,
lights
dark buildings
at pitch black;
calm is a torch in
castle walls.

Staple,
Stand still.

Carry calm
in pockets,
closer to skin than
wallets or watches.

Watch the calm
and let it still
this is beauty
this
is, fire,

still.
in a Me society
you stand on my broken back
to climb

in a We society
you share roof & blanket
we look at stars, both warm

in a We society
you share knowledge,
story, guitar

for the good
of everyone because
it's not about Me

in a Me society
you are showing off
if you do that

unless you are making money
(can someone explain this
to me?)

everyone though is always free
to be a Me
or a We

and life America
despite what you say
is not a competition

come be
a We
with me
inspired by my hippie uncle Tim
How delighted I would feel,
To be the ocean wave singing softly.
Rolling towards a haven safe,
Embracing every shore so gently.

How released I would feel,
To be the eagle on the morning sky.
Carried by the wind beneath my wings,  
Gliding away without a sigh.  

How thrilled I would feel,
To be the sun breaking through the dark.
Swaying upon the surface blue,
Leaving gold with every spark.

But I am caught in silence,
And I cannot my wings perceive.
As glowing coal dying my beams they fade,
Yet my whispers will retrieve.
If you wake tomorrow
And I am gone,
Then know that I
Will be in some safer place,
And won't not return
No more.

If you wake tomorrow
But light is dim,
You will me not behold
For my silhouette is just a veil,
Flowing in the wind,
Evermore.

If you wake tomorrow
A little colder,
And my shadow is
The only fragment left of me,
I have your dreams
Restored.

If you wake tomorrow
To a silence,
Leaving you trembling
The voice you hear is not me,
But a sigh deploring in
Your core.
Lost in reverie
Of being with you
So far and yet, so close
No good wishing for what can't.

Hope in words
To redeem found spark
Never assume, always ask
Can't ever know what reward awaits.

So, lark some more
By window ajar, lovebirds
Flutter onward with affection
Whose depth can be but felt in song.



Star Toucher,  22 March 2013
To anyone who's ever felt the futility of a hopeless situation...and yet still hopes, in spite of it!
to me it seems that the truly rich
are the contemplative,
the homed
are the ones
who can find a home
or create one
for someone else
the orphaned
are the ones who have forgotten
to look into the soul of the world
and one another's eyes

the blessed are the ones
who find themselves cradled
in the arms of the stars
feeling themselves more beloved
than anyone on earth
knowing the Creator
wishes everyone
to feel like that

knowing
love is waiting:
like a favorite woven hammock
in the jungle between the betel-nut and the soursop tree

like the tiny waves that seek the shore
to say hello over and over
to kiss the cheeks
of the hermit *****

like the seahorse clouds
brilliant orange and red
mirroring the ocean until
the whole world is a sunset,
i am in the sunset, i am the sunset

and the sun never really sets after all
it's bringing light to india
kenya hawai'i
it will
be back
Next page