Walking miles
on a
desolate beach
never losing
my path back
to the highway
home,
inside
I know
My eyes
will once again find
the healing white light
the beacon
of
The 4 Trees
guiding me
to the long
highway
home.
Along the way
losing sight
of
them all
There is confusion
fear and trepidation
feeling like a child
waiting in front of a
movie theater
for their mother to come
watching cars
counting trees
And of where I am
And of where I am going
Somewhere along these dunes
Familiarity will
set back in
focus will find
the 4 Trees
quaking in the salty breeze
The ocean is rough
storms blowing on through
calling
beckoning
with each frozen wave
the end of all issues
Sometimes looking out
Sometimes looking in
writing in the sand
knowing the tide
is coming in
erasing all.
The landscape always changing
Easy to become so lost
And tho
the landmarks will decompose
and fade
The 4 Trees
for today mark the way
Easy to miss
along the forest
Panic
a breath away
The phantom captain
the voice within
reassures
not lost
just misplaced
our spot on the map
The spirit guides
the dance
in a spot of the healing
light
the rustling sounds
of the 4 Trees
guiding me
back to the highway.
The picture of the real 4 Trees on my homepage. Easy to get lost out there.
"The phantom captain", a description I first heard from Buckminister Fuller, many years ago.