it is said that
“when once you have tasted flight,
you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward,
for there you have been, and there you will always long to return”
& i have never felt the same way.

the sky: broad & open as it is,
her great blue beauty
will never have the same grit &
smell that dirt gifts me.

i’d rather kneel on the pavement beneath me
than suffer the misery of clipping my wings.
because i’d rather seep into the soil
than have the stratosphere melt away my freedom.
i would have the earth eat my bones
than dissolve as a fleeting cloud

if i ever die,

please turn me into a blade of grass,
amongst mud & rubble,
perhaps in a cemetery
or a meadow.
maybe i’d become a sapling
growing in a park
or a rock, unearthed.

i’d be more at home with that;
tethered to this world
rather than a fleeting moment in the sky
in the air,
in the wind.

this world is mud-luscious &
puddle-wonderful
so the sky cannot be the only
limit

I feel as if darkness is falling upon the world
A darkness that is not seen but felt
A pain that destroys peace
That hates love
Why are we so bound for destruction?

Every tree gone, every field mined for oil
Children buried under rubble
Do you feel the darkness there? Do you feel it now?

I have no words to describe this
Mother Earth is dying and so are we
While they sit in their towers
Endlessly counting
Blood money

Where I am,
Snow and sun battle,
A gray war in the sky and lands.

There are three false springs,
Before winter is truly slain.
Hope rises from the rocky Earth,
Only to be drowned in the icy rain.
Once again claiming the soul of young spring,
So the elder winter may rise again.

Spring is coming,
I can smell it in the air.
The warm kiss of sunny days,
The sent of the Earth waking again.
Winter snows fall from their glinting glory,
Shrinking as they drown in the muds.
The puddles claim the sidewalk stones,
Now in their reflection, I know my face again.
My soul aches as the breezes pass by me,
Carrying the sweet scents of flower blooms.
If only I could grow wings,
I would follow them to their shining prize.
Spring, is coming.

Beneath burdened skies,
over boiled earth,
breathing of toxic mystique;
we or I,
all the same die-
-the world won't end, regardless.

and you and I forever transform
under the aegis of the immortal

as we grow like the roots
of the banyan tree

which hang down with the branches

helping to provide shelter
as we slowly grow closer
to the sweet earth
in silent anticipation

finally touching
gently pushing deeper
until we are one in purpose.

There is happiness

running through my little hands --


my hands on the Earth.

I love rainy days.
I feel like it’s the earths way
Of reminding us
That it’s okay to slow down