Perhaps, though known
through only the most
educated of guesses, an
instance much close to
one at hand lies within
the thousands, years,
previously held in sway
for climate’s progression
from solidity, ice,
toward tropics, ‘canoes;
the always-there, yet
covered world we know
exists now, but know,
in some fashion, existed
prior to our arrival/
spark of move toward
current– yet, to say
such things came easily
is to put aside difficulties
stretching the spread of
continents, of lands, unseen,
yet traversed, conquered,
given an image, human
in nature– the deepest
core from which a
‘ruption of emotion comes
for mother, land, father,
thought, and all which may
come from search, despite
the calamity– such
calm from search, from
purpose, not found, or
given to– such
calm from knowing
all as is is as only is
and not as could,
perhaps may,
be soon or later, still.
musings & scribbles
All beings seek for happiness; so let your compassion extend itself to all.
~ Mahavamsa
Pasted from http://muttscomics.com/index.asp
I will never be famous. And that freedom affords me much.
Nothing such as death brings about a universal sense of urgency in thought and diligence, save birth.
And now, to seem as though all is but autonomous,
A shaking shook to be left shaking still, with no means
But empathy, but sympathy for self and no other, though
Other exists and holds a high head in need of resting,
But no hands or shoulders reach/slide to be there;
And all is magnetic, pulled to be away from they you know
Would rather be attached, though so forced you are to leave
Despite your wonderings of contrary beliefs held in hopes of more.
For days of weeks, we sought to be as speakers,
Though our words, most yours, are now unheard
And all is owed to mem’ry, an accidental cause.
A laugh, a question known but answered not,
For who needs such trivial’ities if words be second;
First our legislature’d hearts, signed to service,
Though so knotted in the legalities of parchments,
As to not be held in hearing, but ‘stead in subtleties,
A way of coward, I, who knew not your desires;
Desires but by an unfilling, flinched in hesitance,
Though they, through knowledge, now, be, too, mine.
And, through them, these, you will most see who this,
Yours, is, reluctantly, in speech, alone, as now is known.
such
vertical seas,
wave trees,
oceans of
light behind,
to bend toward
deepest seam.
Wind speaks,
in ways as horn of car, screech of wailer,
brush of breeze/a light touch upon the cheek or knees,
the symphony/dotted through beak of bird,
the pattern of a dragon’s flight, the
hum of bee, the wave of hand, the
rise of breast, of stomach, full,
a diaphragm, a mouth, eyes
let shut;
Wind speaks,
if you care to listen/
take care to wait/to
wade within
Wind’s ‘lightened lake;
Wind holds
your breath,
a give of take, and
, still, watches,
silent, sought,
for your return to Wind,
your leaving but a voyage,
short, yet lengthened, shook
to core, as though in
plummet, you held
to what you know must go
and, return/a prodigal/more.
And in your sight, all else becomes but sin;
A washing of the mind to wax your image in
A mind, a mind, a hole but known to see
All else becomes but darkness, blighted, the
Worst is yet as come they may, find me, here,
A drawing of the blood in cheek as through fear,
But hold not your wand, your lock, your complexity,
Before your ire; I know nothing less than words to me;
Feeling, the regret, a hold they have upon the skin,
A shake of life, from hair of neck by sores to cl’n.
How low the deep-sought soul, waxing your grace
To be as cook, so bold to know nothing, less your taste.
And, yet, I do not wish you these words as they are,
As they be but mirrors let bubble to, as in wave from far.
I believe we are the only animal who may hold their ass at the pit of their being, or at the midway of their person, or as their highest part.