Every evening I sit on the banks of the Old Man
Withdrawing the gurgles and churns
And applying it as salve to my soul.

I meditate on the modernistic monolith
Perched on the banks of the coulees.
A castle made of sand, so to speak;
A house of learning; fiat lux~medicine rock.
The name isn't important, its role is.
The binder in the masonry is metaphor that I use to
Bind me to my duty on this plane of existence.

I am a miniscule piece of an eternal pie.
Still, my actions are important.
Every choice I make sends a signal back to the pie
Reminding It of its essence.
It is not apple or cherry or pizza, even
The eternal pie that we are all a piece of is Love

Those castles I spoke of earlier
Are continuously flowing
Back into the love
From whence they came.

Why the duality?
Why not just stay in the spirit world and commune with Love?

2 reasons
1. Our souls need to grow: for growth we take to the physical, mental, and spiritual plane

2. Love is imperfect: the definition needs further unraveling

1 word
< ~ ~ Evolution ~ ~ >

Is it too much to save a person
And continually be enough forever?

Irregular shapes and acute angles round out the world;
These forms of trash and literature are constantly changing.
An original birth of earth perseveres and colors over disaster.

Satisfaction is mythical,
But from an oyster emerges a pearl.

The diminutive seedling,
It putters whilst growing
Becoming a robust bark but with decaying leaves
Life then begins to sprout and weaves

We are the seedling, planted in this very soil we stand
We were the sprout of yesterday
But in time shall be tomorrow’s shade
We must be mature but not staid

We then putter over the early years
Ignorance and dreams then arouses
We then become filled with ambitions and fears
Our bodies are then trained

In conditions with heavy winds and rain
Like the bark, resilient and vigorous
Autumn then comes
Leaves begin to fall and wither

Like our worries are untethered
Yet of all, we must not truncate our branches
We must embellish them instead
We must be strong like the Hemlock!

Winter then follows both the sky and land
Becomes tedious and bland  
Problems then arises but shrouded in the mist
Hazy, vague only to catch a glimpse

But warm tears can melt through
The cold and burdened shoulder,
The storm settles and clouds become mild
The vernal breeze then calms our mind

As we continue to grow,
We find ourselves dazed and entwined
Nonetheless we cannot putter for we are a Hemlock!
We stand tall, and keep our roots intact

Summer comes forth, with warmth and life
Radiance into the leaves,
Free birds that chirp with ease

Our leaves which are crammed with wisdom
Our cones that tells our story
Our barks that had endured the calamity
Our roots that stayed firm regardless the intensity

We had all the fun, laughs and sorrow
We were sprouts but it is our time to sow
We are the young and into the hemlock we shall grow!