Dying is easier than the hurt of your silence
Blaming is more painful than the clearance
I can't deal anymore with my broken heart
You have done your job, let me do my part!

I promise you, I won't bother you anymore
If I am so hurt, I won't knock on your door
I want you not to be harassed by the broker
Listen to me, I'm so pleased with your favor.

Touch me once and feel how I'm burning up
When you're gone how will I pick your gifts up
Please, forgive me if you don't see me around
My soul will fly with what I have already found!

You don't feel me, who then will
I loved you all, I do still
You can't get me, who then will
You all hate me, I do feel

You're my hopes, you're dreams
as the river and the streams
You're my heart, you're breaths
like the soul and its depths

You have broken my heart
while you're everything to me
Though I have taken it easy;
I am dull and you are bright

You've forgotten your promises to me
I wanted to be your shadow, and I want to be
I have been living with your memories
where I have found love and peace!

As a child, the 80 acres seemed like the whole world, with its ponds and streams and sunlit meadows.
It looked like Eden to my young eyes.
I chased the lambs and dragonflies, caught tortoises and toads.
The banks of the streams looked like cliffs to me, as I watched the suspended shadows of the bluegill in the water below.

With July's on broil, I found shade beneath a black locust tree, and tried to figure out, how I could use the thorns as fish hooks, to catch dinner for the night.
Evening set the sky on fire and the clouds were all a blaze.
Passion found me early, so much land, and nothing but time.

Then dusk turned gently into night and the summer Moon looked sad, like a giant porch light left on, for a lover that's never coming home.
As I lay in bed the cicadas buzz tucked me in, and from the pond came to bullfrog sad song, and I knew he was lonely like me.

Destiny and eternity are
chiseled in seconds.
Flecks of snow become
mountains.
Drops of rain make
oceans.
Thoughts tumble into
decisions, and actions,
overtime, leave a
legacy.

From the outside in daylight my
large front porch windows are
nearly as reflective as mirrors.
Birds often mistake them for
open space fly zones.

Today I watched in horror as a
stalwart resolute Towhee fell for
the visual illusion, flying full tilt
into the window, impacting,
bouncing recoiling, reversing
and then trying it yet again!

The second impact bounced him
out onto the lawn, where he laid
stunned, feet pointing to the sky
for perhaps a minute.

I watched helplessly as eventually
he struggled to rise, then into the air
he drunkenly took wing, away from
the porch, turned and flew directly
back onto his delusion of freedoms
space. The sound of the impact
sickened me.

One minute alive the next he lay
dead on the stone porch. A victim
of his instinctive inherit perseverance
for freedom.

We humans; perhaps all living creatures
are not so different than this little bird,
our innate instincts can and often do lead
us down the wrong paths, even to bad
endings. I buried the little downed flyer
beneath my favorite Birch tree in the
garden. To ensure that our Barn Cats
did not add the indignity of being eaten
to the little flyer's untimely demise.

Come,
Walk with me.
Through nature and the wild.
To the precipice of shadows
Where no mortal has defiled.
Past the last bastion of light
Death throes of the civilised.
No remnants of sentiment
To the trees, we shall confide.

So we will journey, we shall go.
Travel to where the maps won't show.
Embark to where here dragons lie
Neck stiff,
Head tilts toward the sky.
Each pinprick becomes a question,
The void another lesson,
Constellations, a reason why.
Then as those final embers mellow,
Residual engraving on our eyes.
We turn away, heads high and bellow,
That which lives will never die.