Is all concrete below ephemeral skies,
To think what is now as already made,
Riding lone, the plateaus of a minds eye,
Or is whole of nature purest esplanade?

.
Gentle sounds that jar as fog rolls in—
Blue Jays knock and forage in the leaves,
Days turn to nights in a cold winter rushing,
Atop a hill overlooking my disappering village,
Darkness is expected as always unwelcomed,
My guest that will not— not come— as I wait,
To hear the lone emptiness of a fog horn blow
From out there, incoming, pray old harbour
Bay. Is it an omen of souls landing or lost?

Rain, softly falls in old deer valley,
All the woodlands swimming underneath
The steaming fog.  What peaceful sound
I hear, softly rings out of the sparkling
Woods and meadows, chimes like a thousand      
Sleepy bells announcing the rising sun,
Who sings loudest, after the rains.

Snow capped mountains,
Bald flights of soaring eagle,
Dual forms Godhead.

Under loving branches of tree,

Singing birds bathe in garden,

Butterfly and cat jostle, sleepy,

Flowers bolt into the open sun.

Simple clouds, clotting great blue sky,

Face of old, youthful man in mountain,

White headed, green warring with blue,

Winter trees having grown, all they can.

I never had a chance
Because I never needed it
I should of had a deal
Because my emotions don't want be in a steal
Its got to be real
Or it's nothing at all

Is that a leaf, floating and leaving the tree?

Or a sign of the wind, swaying and rustling it?

Perhaps a mirror, catching the rays of light that once gave it life

Maybe just a reflection, impermanent as it lands on the water.

Here.

Where all is gone.

The man left with only the beat of his heart and thoughts,


Amid structures of sand and stone.

Time and space still reign over the hearts and minds of men.


Where has the man holding the flowers gone to?


Was he late?

Was she at the right place?


The man muses in private,


For all the achievements of man

For all his desires

He is yet unable to summon the object of his desires.


Only the lords may choose one moment in infinity,

To grant him and her a moment where their hearts beat as one, in time and space.

Hands swayed by the movement of water,
Thoughts swayed by the movement of trees.
Looking up at the trees, moved by wind,
Thoughts mirrored by the water, rippled by wind.

Thoughts branch out into the future imagining possibilities.
Hands dangle and dip around in the water, piecing and pulling visions.

A leaf drops onto my head and into the water.
Why, thank you!
Mister Tree brings me back into the now.