I write to be free,
flows right out of me;
when Inspired to write;
It comes rapidly.

My mind steady ponders,
A world full of wonders,
encouraged to Inspire, as
I ever so desire.

My pen steady moving, and
minds steady grooving,
it's as easy as walking,
let my pen do the talking.


B.R.
01/12/2023

In my New Day I arose from my
screen-tent-mole-hole-flimsy-bomb-shelter-for-my-soul
and walked down to the banks of the Missinabi River
at the Mattice Landing
with dog’s leash in one hand and my right hand
leading lady’s in the other hearing and feeling tall grasses
swishing against my pant legs
and the crunch of course sand under my feet that once trod fields of green tall grasses swishing against my pant legs in the meadows and rocky woods of
my childhood and youth where I spent summers working

at my Aunt and Uncle's farm in
Canada's Northern Ontario region, and in the woods and along the banks
of the Lackawanna River just over the **** behind
the house of my childhood and youth in the Anthracite coal
region of the American Northeast which is light years away from the land of my birth where I now live in this Northern Ontario port in the middle of a deep
                                     cold sea of countless
                                     converging
                                     never-ending
rivers
lakes
trees
swamps
bogs
muskeg
and mountains of snow
where snow white and black flies fly freely.

I am always trying to go deeper into the trees and bush
burning deep inside my heart of hearts to follow the Moses
that is in all of us.

This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching
under foot and tall grasses swishing and canoe parting
waters that flow deep in my mind and spirit--once only
winding past burning villages where humans **** and pillage
--but now also following a more
pastoral             idyllic             and super-natural course.

A vagabond never quite understands the working-class
woman and man living their small dream with their offspring and slice of land.

I thought they were all ostrich with head in sand.

But I now see that we can't all afford to brood as I often do over the daily news.

They must rise early the next morning alarm clocks not set on snooze.                                            

work ethic
family hearth and home
days of scent
of freshly mown grass  
barbeques                                          
campf­ires  
coffee brewing  
children playing  
TV and music blaring
dishes rattling
in sink or
swim in the lake

Loosen the watertight mind drum and just dive into the
crunch of pebbles under foot treading fields of green tall
grasses swishing against pant legs...

Not only wishing
but going deeper into the trees and bush burning
speaking to our primeval consciousness.

This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching and tall grasses
swishing.
The whooshing sound of wading in a stream streams
through my soul as I savour the body taste of wet gritty sand
between my fingers and toes crouched down wet-crotch deep waiting long enough for minnows to tickle fingers and toes as mosquito’s pin-prickle skin.

Watching creatures much smaller than I gliding
even walking on calm still water which we humans can only dream of doing in our motorized sleep.

I think I now understand:

To not be constantly mourning the plight of man isn't being ostrich with head in sand.
I must keep gunning-off the haunted deeps alluring stare.

I must taste life
    Smell and feel life
        Enjoy life outside of my troubled mind

against the backdrop of the latest holy war
and the imploding creations of our kind.

Channeling new feelings, to stay locked in the now.
I am able to do this, though I do not know how.

In any occurrence, I sneer not, nor cheer.
I listen but judge not, on values held dear.

Controlling emotions, when faced with  despair.
Aligns your three vessels, for constant repair.

With any experience, you control what you feel.
By being in balance, you then learn to heal.

Start doing things other than what you've been told.
You'll soon see the story, that's about to unfold.

Enhanced understanding, burning bright as the Sun.
Will show you this game, has already been won.

I dot my i’s and
cross my t’s,
a perfect ballerina
dancing across the page.
Graceful as a butterfly
soothing like a summer sunset.
Sweet, simple, flawless.
But already there are
scribbles, mispelings,
blots of ink and suddenly
this perfect canvas is no longer
blank.
Oh, to write like a wildfire,
no remorse or formulaic
meter!
Just bared wide, torn open
displaying my wholeness as
us poets so often do.

While everything dissolves in a blur
and everyone else is in a hurry,
between the fast and slow footsteps on the street,
yours just feel like water—
flowing across minds in one step,
through sands of time in two.


Maybe they will find you cold and bland,
but have they ever felt cold water on a sizzling day?



And maybe,
maybe I've swum in calmer waters,
walked at a slower pace with many.

But no one has ever swung my hand along a busy pedestrian street,
or swayed me as gently
as you did.

Water the Greenhouse
Water the plants on the deck.
Walk Autumn Moon.

Salutation to the Sun
Yoga on the deck
Prayers
Angel of Air
Reading & Study with Ken
Sipping herbals & he, his coffee.

Pick up.
Moving the living room furniture
Rearranging. Sweeping. Mopping.
Clean the kennel.
Fresh bedding for Autumn.

A break for Sevenfold Peace in the sunshine.
Listening to the Holy Stream of Sound.

Playing with Autumn.
Laughing with Ken.
Continuing with rearranging & cleaning
Done!

Another break
With Ken, Autumn & Habibie
By the firepit in front of the shop.
Auti chasing water up and down and around.

Walk to Alli's, talk and pick up the key.
Cut broccoli, cabbage, carrots, & kale
Add a few pods of peas
Drizzle poppy seed dressing.

Two bowls with 1/2 cup of rolled oats each
Add cinnamon.
Taking a teaspoon
Half full with honey.
Dipping it into the center of the oats
Pouring boiling water over the honey.
Into the oats.

Stirring and stirring
Watching the cinnamon spirals
Mix into the sweet porridge.

Small cacao chips, sunflower seeds
A few raisins
Sprinkled as garnish.  

Eating together
Smallville, playing with Autumn
Habibie resting near by.
She maybe carrying kittens.
Too early to tell.

Tired. Good night. Sleep.
2:30 am.
Ken up watching a movie on is phone.
My, my, how times have changed.

Return to bed.
Writing, writing, writing….now it is done.

I have made my transition to another place, a place where beauty needs no explination.
God’s great timing is everything;
it may not be what we expect but God is always in control.
Sands will flow through the hourglass, slow and steady, throughout our lives.

Time will end and the sand will stop flowing, but God’s love for us is forever growing.
I have worked all my life for this to happen, to see my Lord face to face.

I’ve been accepted in this majestic place, where pain no longer has a hold on me.
My eyes have adjusted t my new reality, I can see bright skies and butterflies.
Don’t worry about not seeing my face, don’t worry abut not feeling my embrace.

Hold our memories inside your heart, and know that our live will never depart.
Cry for me, just for a while, but not too long, ‘cause I’m don’t just fine.
My bags are unpacked and I am settling in, taking my place next to the Master.

He said that he’d never leave nor forsake me, He kept his promise, I am with him now.
He has taken my hand and opened up the doors; to a Paradise of beauty and love divine.
I know you’ll miss me, I’ll miss you too!
Just know dear hearts, we will be together again someday.
Live your life to the fullest, and remember our love
each and every day.
Just remember your hourglass is still flowing strong.
Do what you can so you can see, my hourglass is full again, this time my sand will never end!