Imagine the first rumor. The first grunt of gossip
The first finger-point of prejudice. It was probably
like noticing the sunset for the first-time. How it
stretched out across the entire scope of your vision,

peeled back into a city that wasn’t the one you were in,
like an orange peel, one skin at a time. Eventually,
the world rounded, the ice melted, ****-sapiens
grew taller. Our voices deepened, bodies thickened.

We learned to survive the cold, the floods,
the irrational wars, and crescent-mooned nights
underneath tinned roofs. Then came the enlightenment,
the evolution of speech. The first cousin of Germanic

languages; the second cousin of Romantic languages.
And then the first rumor. The first appraisal of good
or bad actions of people hardly known. I imagine
my ancestors, 1.9 million years ago, grunting

with raised brow in her partner’s direction. Pointing
at two men crouching behind a large, fallen boulder.
Pointing at a man who belongs to her neighbor,
crawling out of a cave that doesn’t belong to him.

They are probably turning over in their bone-filled
graves as I think of what to say next, laughing at how
far we haven’t come from the ghouls of gossip,
discussing how out of all the occupations in this world:

bricklayer, lawyer, educator, their descendant chose
this noble profession, this calling up of events.

The quieter he became ...
the more he could feel
only a single lit candle
moved the stillness ,
gripping the void between
lucency and obscure darkness

longing eyes slipped slowly closed
as the flicker faded ,
inner quietude dimming all light
the darker it got ...
the more vividly he could see

a nearly silent exhaled sigh
let the memories flood ;
leaning into the bereft
where there once was light ,
he became a timeless silence
                              without form
                     only shaped by retracing
                        re-remembered words

yearning to understand
some of the greater things life unfolds
experiencing the unknown
                             without fear ,
                      for to clinch and feel
that which seems indefinable

     for here ,
in this formless
manifest dimension ,
all layers of essence
are peeled back
to the bared aurora
of a soul's spirit light ;

at the core of inner stillness
      nothing is impossible ...



© H A Rivers all rights reserved

Let us be like trees in autumn.
Let us turn colors and leave the landscape of this world more beautiful than it was before.
Let others bask in the purity of our evolutionary changing leaves.

May we not be afraid to shed our skin.
May we know that even when we are most barren, like the branches of winter it will not last.

Spring will come again.
It will put bark back on our trunks.
It will feed our roots that we embedded deep within the earth.
It will allow us to bloom again.

Girl walking,
Full sunlight shining,
On the beach,
On her figure
Slightly hidden.

All eyes watching,
As she moves.
All to see
A million years
From the slime of the sea.

We are only human
Built up from the muck
Made of dna
Purpose constructed
From chaos
How we define
What designed us
Time plus adaptation
This ecological manifestation
That feels pain
That feels love
That feels loss
And so much more
Compassion in actions
One person to another
We could not be better
Because we are only
Limited children of the cosmos
Only human
For such a small span
Of time

I used to be white too
until I realized that if I didn’t
reclaim my indigenous
evolutionary potential
I would be doomed

There’s nothing greater than the miracle of life,
No matter how fleeting it may be.
Energy and matter
Winking
Into Existence.
Chemical maelstroms and nuclear reactions,
Galaxy formations
Leading to countless worlds.
The formula for life is all around us,
Awaiting the inevitable hand of evolution.

See how we’re surrounded by sentient beings,
From tiny insects to massive whales.
Celebrate the very fact
That we can look in awe
And meditate
Upon the wonders of the world.

We take it all for granted,
Locked in our TV and mobile phones,
Our petty businesses and routines.
We seldom think that thinking is amazing,
As the universe expands:
A miracle indeed.

Paul Butters

One of the hardening things I've endured
listening to subliminal cries of a voice

whom openly tries compromise - I'm the
cause of the sound off disdain I'm the one

in dismay - because he loves his planted seed
that feeds the anguish he reaps but hides

behind tender loving care - A father may abide
his broken heart but his eyes never lie - And I

the son feel like a spy that robbed him
of Good byes - I never could Comply