simply a witness
to beauties whole

put here to appreciate
the truth of it all

silent flight of minds eye
carried on the wings of a bird
silently flying over the Earth

on to new horizons I go
still cradled in magnetic pull
of a lovers nest rest assured

mothers womb Earth below
She will never let go
All creations birthed

I mean
      that I am trying to tame
      the wildfire in my heart
      built on the Embers from a
      domesticated bonfire
      during a winter many springs ago.
      i thought i had stamped it
                                                         out
                                                      out out
I mean
      that I am not trying to run
      i'm just trying to move
      in a different direction
      the scent of a breeze caught my nose
      and as i am a red tailed fox
                                                       i follow
I mean
      that sometimes i feel like
      my dreams are much bigger than me
      but even if i am a ladybug
      i am still as big as the
sea.

this is what my heart
                   looks like:

           it is            geometric
                                       and angular
           there are                      dark corners
                                                        a­nd sharp edges  
But sometimes in the
sunlight some of my
sides look so
bright

I am not a machine with a full tank of gas
I am a human being with limits, and food is not just fuel.
I need nourishment of all sorts to be fully alive.

Sometimes all I see are empty eyes in this urban jungle
that I call home, even though my heart belongs in Appalachia.
I am a mountain boy away from my true home.

I long to feel the morning fog roll in,
and hear the songs of the cicadas.
I love seeing fireflies in the summer time,
and the feel of a summer rain coolin' my skin.

I am not a machine,
a thing to be valued merely based on
production and function.

I have value, because I have life coursing through me,
and I sing the song of the Creator in my soul.

hope floats
on the gossamer wings
of beautiful dreams
and stings sweetly, exquistely so,
with thoughts of better things.
as you sit, quietly and cry

hope is, undeniable,
to believe you have none;
is like, holding your breath,
eventually,
you have to come undone and take....
a great gulping mouthful
of fresh air.

we all hope, we all breathe,
waiting for, something
on wings of gossamer,
to alight and  let us live anew......again.