drowning in a sea of stars and lavender

you fill my head with dreams of forests and our feet on ice

    you text me at 2 am and I pray I am the first thing on your mind

but I'm trying not to let my red string get knotted up in your fingers

   that you play so carefully with

This is my hope
this is my dream.
A world of bliss
and an undying sea.

A kindled flame
burning within.
A fierce light
no Darkness can touch.

I look into
the eye of my mind.
Searching for what
wonders I find.

And this is what I see
this is the dream,
the dream for me.

Far across the distant seas
across deep waters and gray horizons.
Farther still then the great unknown
to the secret realm
the heavens have never shown.

A land of peace,
a home to all.
Cool waters flowing through silver forests,
green grasses sway in the warm breath
of the summer breeze.


The stars dance as one,
in this realm of mine.
The lights glow warm
and trees sway and swing.

They dance like the lilies
and shout like the lion.
They thunder and roar
they yearn for more and more.

In this dreamy land of mine,
where the sun never ceases to shine.
Where the grass grows tallest,
and waters fall in cascading torrents.

Where the winds softly blow,
rustle the tree tops
and make the fires glow.

In this world of mine
I see a house of blue and of white.
A beacon for the lost
a guide for the endangered.

It stands upon a grassy knoll
flowers and pines embrace its neck.
Jagged rocks and steeple towers
keeping it ever in check.

In this dearest dream of mine,
I see children laughing and a mother smiling.
I see warmth and love
I am surrounded in a perfect happiness.

The kind of happiness
that could only come from such things.
The kind of happiness
that such a life only could bring.

In this world of mine
the bright sun never ceases to shine.
The grass grows tallest
and the stars dance as one.

And in the midst of all the beauty
in the center of everything I love,
of everything I care for
of everything I have ever dreamed for.

In the midst
standing like the golden sight
that covers me
in the early morning light

A clear morning star.
Draped in the wondrous array
of the heavens.

You appear brightest of all.

In this world of mine
You are the star.
You are my home.

Your eyes shine
like the beacons of Amiridan.
They touch the far reaches.
of my human heart.
Your love
fairest of all treasures beheld.
I can close my eyes
and I am whisked away into a starry gray haven.

I can look into your eyes
and I am at a loss.

For your depths are fathomless
your deepness an abyss.
I could swing
and I could sing
and I could dream
and I could float,
upon rivers of joy.

I could dance with you
hand in hand,
just like the stars in my silly little dream,
and dance as one for now and forever.

In this dream of mine
this vision this blurry far off realm,
there is you and there is me,
there is hope for us both.

There is a life
that cannot be shaken
There is a light
untouchable,
unmovable.



The stars
like glowing embers.
The oceans
raging remembers.

The heavens and the far reaches of the galaxy's
they are one
under my dazzling dream.
They are beautiful,
bright and surreal.

They are amazing.

They dominate all other life forms
they cover the darkness and hide the fear.
They blot out the misery
they guard.
protect.

They protect us from all hurt
they keep us safe and warm.
They alight the room
they sing melodically
enveloping us as we shift and sway.

And as I take your hand in mine
the stars brightly begin to shine.
And under the shining of the stars
I whisper softly in your ear.

“Darling look, this wondrous world,
this world of beauty of life and love,
this perfect paradise,
this magical land under the shining stars
is ours,
and ours alone.

This summer I saw mountains
   Thrusting out of the sea,
   And mountains mellowed with age,
   Rounded, softer, quietly returning to the sea.

I saw Redwoods: massive
   Majestic, alive,
   And marveled as I held seeds
   From which they thrive.

I wondered at hands that could be so old
   As those that carved the living stone
  In rocks by the sea;

I stood in awe hundreds of feet
   Beneath blankets of branches
   Of ancient trees.

I listened as mountainous streams
   Sang songs of the sources
   Of life-giving waters.

I saw flowers too many to name
   Running up and down grassy hillsides,
   In and out of pine-scented forests,
   Along rivers,
   Through meadows,
   Etc.
   Etc.
   Etc.*

But why am I telling you this?
   Because, of course,
   I must prove I am free,
   That I can see beauty
   all around me.
But it seems
   The less I feel free,
   The less beauty I see, and
   The louder I shout, “I am free, I am free”,
   The more I scream, “I see, I see”.
It’s all a game,
   You see;
   you see.

I just try to follow the rules.

                                                        ­        August 1, 1970
                                                            ­  *(edited 10/11/2014)

Stark among the lush of youth

tall, unashamed

no leaves twirl downward

no fertile blanket of rot

to feed saplings

fresh with green sprigs.

Many seasons

they have tasted your sustenance.

Do they regard your wisdom

whispered in the mountain breeze?

Do they believe tales told of

life on the hill,

of cycles of torrents, droughts,

penetrating frosts and mountains

of drifted snow?

Do they devour the lore

falling among the leaves?

Initiative is as necessary
As a bird that must rely
Upon its natural wings for it
To take off and to fly
A ship equipped with power
To withstand the frightening gale
Would bear no earthly purpose if
It ventures not to sail.
Forests would, indeed, decay
If these do not retain
Moisture from clouds that bring
Growth-sustaining rain.
A poet would be sore-beguiled
If he should sadly lose
Interest in the spirit of
His own creative Muse.
So is ones talent for success
By which one tries to live,
And could be only realized
Through sheer initiative.

The wind floats through my
fingers, tickling my sticky skin.
My children fall to
grow up strong or
become fodder for the
small, nimble creatures
that scramble up and down
the length of me,
my family, and friends.

The air soon turns cold
and frozen water falls from
the sky. My friends lose
their green and turn
the color of fire, but I
stay the same, even as
the biting cold shakes
their shivering skeletons.

Sometimes hairless bears
meander through our
home, making funny
noises far less pleasant
than that of our bright
winged friends that
sing jubilant phrases from
high atop our arms.

I wonder what they see,
those graceful spirits that
glide through the air
and clouds above. I
wish I were as free as
they; with wings to take
me far up towards the sun.