I

From the depths of our inner layer

Calls the silent voice of longing.

The missed moments that blur into a cloud

Of insignificance,

Haunt our every thought as if beating quietly

Upon our conscience,

Reminding us of our commitment made

Before we exhaled our first breath.

The first inhale lingers as an unspoken promise

In the air, of a loved one just departed,

The one who loved us enough to give birth to our soul.

I read words written a life time ago and my heart

Tightens with a yearning to return to that self

Who wandered through life,

Connected to an inner voice,

Which lept out onto the page

And viciously captured the injustice

Of the ever present moment creeping into the past.

This past I now live in the present.

II

As it flows, my hair pushes past my face

And conceals the future guised as a windswept

Ghost town dusted by the rising sands

Of the high deserts.

Everyone’s hair is crossing their face

And sticking to their lips

And only half trapped behind their ears.

No-one sees the future.

And why would we?

Why should this body be built with

A pre-called path, with a destination determined

By the molecular structure which is our foundation?

Our foundation is that which gives us strength

And posture, but it is the vision,

The spirit of the vision, the dream of the spirit,

That guides us.

As the tumbling walls of the rickety saloon

Sing of days long gone,

Rejoicing in the memories of shared love

In the presence of the divine spirit of song,

Yet in the face of the darkened souls

Driven by dark liquids,

Consumed in the hours of darkness,

I am still hearing the voices of those gone as I sing along.

As I recapture the forever moment of life,

I recapture my own imagination as I live and breathe

The evening bustle, today and yesterday.

But never the tomorrow.

And why would I?

Why challenge the ever changing present

To capture the future and encage it,

As we would a wild animal?

Doesn’t the future have it’s own sense of freedom?

It’s own soul?

It’s own life beyond our conditioning?

As it flows, time, the wind blows my hair free from my face

And I see clearly.

I see here.
I see now.

III

If I am held prisoner by my own thoughts,
I wonder which part of myself locked me up.

I continue to circle the cell, cold smooth walls

With microscopic cracks bleed along it’s veins of secrecy,

Whilst my naked feet uncurl with each step as they trespass

Through the concrete slabs of conditioned thought.

My finger nails scratch the surface of knowledge

As I dream of an escape.
I hurl myself at the barred window and inhale the freedom of the air outside,

Holding my breath as if to expand my lungs with the promise of emancipation.

About to burst with potential, I release slowly each particle from within,

As they dance in song to un-scored music of a time once lived

By many afore captured prisoners.

I watch them dance like spirits in the sky, as they beckon me from the other side.

Thank you, I hear myself whisper.
And I stretch my wings and fly.

The Others...

They don’t hear my screams as they fall on sound proof barriers

Deaf to their insensitive radars,

Meanwhile my screams are deafening inside my head.

My sonic range of sensitivity is deafening 
To those of like-minded souls,

The eco waves piercing through the atmosphere of fear.

Blinding screams and silence.

How can these be reconciled?

How truly born of two worlds, apart, 
Yet released from the same source.

My scrambled thoughts cause a constrained collection of madness

Within my being, augmenting a permanent state of anxiety.

And why?

Because my voice of high frequency sonic value rebounds against

The insensitive receiver barriers of others,

Circling within my cave of darkness and confusing 
The purity of sound within my thoughts.

I will retreat to my cave, to my high frequency atmosphere

And I will chose to speak with tones of silence,

Only to those whose egos are tamed, 
Only to those whose frequency calms my soul,

Only to those from whom I can learn peace and silence within,

Only to those who listen.

I will emerge in dusk, in nightfall, with caution and silence

And I will sense, using my echo location, the habitats of

Those who commune with compassion, those who touch to feel,

Those who cry with joy at the highest frequency,

And those who have their fears close to their hearts.

THE LAND / 2014

Perhaps I am impatient,

Perhaps I am in a hurry,

But I feel the time pass.

I feel weeks and months

Evaporate before they appear.

I have known years that have lived

And died, some with grace,

Others with such a lack of

Dignity that I feel the shame

Of the passing of an unfulfilled life.

Once you can change your perspective you

Can liberate your vision.

Your thoughts can be digested with taste

And your ideas can be worn with pride.

Sink low and deep, see the density of the

Ground upon which we walk and feel the

Stillness.

Catch the flicker of light as it reflects the

Web of consciousness and stare into the

Dry brittle roots of habit.

Observe the depth of the shadows as they

Elongate their essence, towering beneath

The gravel surfaces of our time.

Still.

As the all powerful sun prepares it’s

Nest amongst the pines, sinking slowly into

A state of suspense, refusing to quite

Let go of today’s moment.

Sense the gratitude well up inside you as

This great master prepares you for your

Solitude.

As you lean your heart into the crystalized

Surface of the rock, you reach out to feel

It’s protective edge.  It’s very boundary

Is that which gives you clarity of being.

The trust that has built up between you

Allows you to roam the land,

Motionless.

I dream of the land, our land.

I dream of the birds, our birds.

I dream of learning a new language, the

Language of Life.

The howling of winds

The rustle of leaves

The intellectual cries of crows

The shifting grains of sand

The flutter of beating wings

The bubbling of the spring.

As the subway deafens my soul,

As the mass of people

Suffocate my breath,

As the strip lights blind my heart,

I dream of love, your love.

As night falls I nestle into myself.

As dawn breaks I curl up into you. 

The last whispers of truth crackle in the silence 
Sharing stories from an ancient time, weighting 
Each shrub to this magical land.

The recently reddened skies now bleed dry with

A harsh chiaroscuro which bathes

The tips of the shrubs in warmth, whilst

Abandoning their roots in shadowed shame.

The birth of a new day holds promise for a

Deeper understanding of stillness.

I crave this stillness.

As duty tears me away into the chaotic rhythms

Of unconscious activities, of calculating minds,

Of artificial rituals to establish 
One’s powers or beliefs,

As I leave the peace of this land, my most
Treasured gift, may I hold within my being

This moment.

This moment of stillness.

This stillness within. 

I know not the way

But year after year

As the elephants have entered caves,

Travelled to their depths, blinded by the complete

Darkness, all to catch the

Essential mineral of life, led

Merely by generations and generations of

Knowledge, inherently known, not taught,

I too will enter darkness, I too will trust

The blinded path.

I too will follow the guides

Of generations before, who will lead me to

Life, to the essential being of life, to

My essential being.

I know not the way,

But I shall know the way...