912

Peace is a fiction of our Faith—
The Bells a Winter Night
Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound
That never did alight.

Life truth lies in subtle realms
As the smallest streams story
    Is never straight
Flames and streams bend with ease
The cleansing part is both reflect
    Our soul's intent
It is the curve that holds beauty
It is the bump we desire
And all are capable sirens
After acquiring the flexion
    Of the old celestial song

happening upon
a sacred sandstone scene
not seen coming
not intended
now illuminated
through blindness of modernity
mother nature's sweat lodge
floating and fleeting
soaring to sourcing
consciously sharp to the present
each sweatdrop, each heartbeat,
each wisdom
there are one, then two
then ten thousand
not passingly noticed
but known intimately
petroglyphs etched into
mind body soul

With a background track of
Still cool desert air
Crickets sing their song
My skin seems to appreciate
The cloudless desert bathing
New Mexican green chili
Digests slowly in euphoric pulses
Lost track of time
I'm not usually up at this hour
Lost track of tomorrow's worry
Not even sure what it was or for
All friends at the mountaintop
All love on dirt streets
All simple
All art
Life is Beautiful
It's not over
It has returned in Enormity

After spending all winter
In shoes and boots
My feet were put to their
Summer test
With a five mile trek
    see yellow butterflies!
    see the wild columbines!
In flip flops
And the blisters
And the pain
In an illogically brilliant manner
Make me deeply
    and happily
        satisfied