It is not raining

between the highest mountains –


here the source rustles.

A sitting sparrow on old willow branch,
the raindrop reflect my thought like moon upon lake.
The heart stir thousands thought.
Man is witness to heaven and earth,
his spirit bellowed in-between.
Where the heart tilt, heaven shift.
Where the heart waver, earth tremble.
So small... so this is my will.
Reflecting in my heart, the ripple is the will.
Insignificant and short-live;
but a single will to move the world.

From whence love comes;
so to ventures
the soul-

a vessel left
caverned
and wilting.

Hollow wisps
dancing in
drifting husks-

enriching soils
upon which
they fall.

Hooves pattering
to impress
the fauna that begs growth.

Packed earth.
The nudest berth
for which it burgeons;

a bed
to rest
our heads.

And watch
it all rise
around and about

us.

Swollen eyes,
These headaches
Tell me to stay present
Do not fear
We're one and the same
The pulse of each vein.
This noise
These sounds
Are not like the others.
Sweet syrup,
And warm embrace
Drown out the buzzers.
This music,
The sky,
Breathe in the filtered light
Just breathe.

-Two sides of the same coin


Space along with the ocean are literally one and the same,

Both are mysterious not to mention deadly, aint that insane!?

I hold the tool. I am the blade. I drive
myself into the fertile ground. I dig
potatoes out. They were buried alive,
but in darkness they thrive. Now the old pig
will feast. When he grows fat I will slay him
to feed me and kin. I don't like killing
but when necessary it's not a sin.
I shall live another year, God willing.
I have long been on the land. I am old
but my sun is not yet setting in the
sky. When I was a child I was told once by
my father you become earth when you die.
If so, I hope my children carve my chest
with blade. I hope I'll yield a fruitful harvest.

Woodland gardens, in their clunky brown depth
Of wet, powdered strings soiled in sap
The raw scent of shapeless red clay lost and wondered -
Where I, remember briefly, catching a glimpse of a bear
Or rather it's fur.

Mingled in the concert, a blur of peculiar bursts of noises
Struck with no identity, whimsical and plain
The songs of festivities -
Cool, romantic winds fueled the ferris wheel
As the man pressed flatly in pools of his own vitality
Broke my heart into orbes of fear and empathy.

If you watch closely
You'll come to know that men won't lie when you're listening
They won't hide.
You'll lie for them to yourself when you catch your eyes closing.

Re-wild your inner child
and with that the World;
Lest we fail to be worthy of our so called “wisdom”
For the fate of this beautiful blue marble
that we have the privilege to call our home
is held within all of our minds and actions-
and ours alone.
Those who look upon the mystique of nature
with childlike wonderment
and tearful disbelief
of what mother Gaia has birthed;
Those who stand and heed the call to arms
with Spartanesque custodianship
to see what the courage of their souls unearths-
Those and those alone
will be our saviours.
All others condemn us
to a future house and home
unfit for the darkest devil in hell