Tag Archives: poem

Clouded Mirror

I’ve gazed into the stream
Watched my reflection
Drift away unseen

I’ve stood in the winds of time
And watched the world pass by
Making no sense or rhyme

Ive stood in the rain
Flooded with emotion
Void of pain

I’ve see the darkness within
Through the cracks of lightening
Flashing across a soul too thin

I’ve felt the thunder in my bones
Bring back memories
Thrown like sticks or stones

I’ve become the storm to love
Riding swollen streams
Under dark skies above

Life is reciprocal in tone
Darkness for light, evil sees good
And yet I walk alone

Where is my reflection
What reveals me,
Suffers my intention

So I assimilate the sublime
Like a cloudy day
Brings memories of sunshine

To reflect is giving myself away
revealing so little
Of who I truly seek one day

Until then I’ll ride the storms
And show you who you are
Taking different paths and forms

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Storm

The storm, wrestled and temporary
All around the swirling vortex of emotion, the calm sits eternally. Like a promise to believers who can see past the clouds into the heavens within us.

It’s hard to see your way to the center where silence whistles and warns of the next step. The eye is clear and light shines through a center only you can see, only you can feel. Confidently I stand knowing that just the other side of the swirling debris and dust is what’s left, life.

I must move with the winds of time avoiding the edge of chaos. The wall of thundering clouds surround this pristine space where you can feel the color of the wind and hear shapes that scream with the force of eternity, but here I’m a universe. Here I raise my heart to truth joining a legacy of humanity.

But here I’m alone. Lost to the horizon that surrounds the earth with hope and wonder. A respite from the turmoil created by lesser beasts seeking to thrive on the emotions of bowed heads and bruised knees. Death comes slow to the one defeated by fear.

Separated from the sounds of liberty and the smell of victory my words have no meaning. I must escape the sounds of silence screaming within my heart. I must walk through the fog of debris and torment into the the light of day, through the glow of night into a new day. A day of reckoning.

This demarcation is a birth. A new beginning where the past becomes silent, once again leaving now to hope for tomorrow. I only know and think what the future can be, what now will produce. I must close the book and remember throughout time that pages are a past that fade with time. A collection of privilege passed on through genetic inferiority with the hope another man will prove their indulgence was valor. Now we control truth.

So cast your lots free. Set your burdens aloft. Hold nothing but the light of day as a path through the night. Walk forward with your head held high knowing that now is forever and yesterday never is. Here you can gaze into tomorrow leaving fear and ignorance behind for the beauty of hope and truth.

Reflections of Us

Reflection across this linear existence. Beyond the cracks and scars there is an image, the man you carry into hope. Or maybe a monster you hide in the mist or fog of fear. Who is me?

This reflection protects us from ourselves, because one day the mirror won’t be enough. The distortion will fade, the illusion will dissipate into you. Only then will we understand that I is not a singular expression.

I is a prism. A tense refraction of hopes, dreams, or fears. Not now, or yesterday, nor tomorrow can define us. We are many inside broken hulls and silk threads, the world is too destructive for the illusion of freedom, too ravenous for one man.

It’s the moments hidden outside time or space that random acts of bravery hide. Legends that span the horizon never revealing their depth, looming across time for those willing to shed the cloak of humanity and shine.

Mirrors, horizons, fear; man was meant to be more than a reflection of another’s reality. Never confined to roles or robes that capture his spirit like a mirror in a dark room. That moment when the light, the mirror, and the reflection blind us with light is who we are.

It’s the hope that when all the colors and moments come together we’ll be blinded into that singular person that is the origin of us, human. Matter, memories, and moments recreating perfection, if only for a glimpse.

I hold that light as a moment in time. It reminds me that I’m you and you’re me. It reminds me that I is a luxury reserved for the silence. I is a reflection with the world looming behind me, waiting to define our moments.

Surrounded

The echos of my world reverberate within my soul. That space the doesn’t feel, but absorbs that which cannot be processed but with time. This space leaves my silence thundering across the horizon.

This is the beat my spirit dances and sleeps. I carry this weightless feeling with a heavy heart. The motion of my soul writhes in anguish, but all you see is a dancing fool.

There is a world within me that never stops beating. Fighting for every thought against a world of oppression. I’ll never be free until I grasp the wind that moves my spirit; but who can hold a soul. Its like grasping smoke after the fire has smoldered and darkness set in. It’s just faith.

I’ve slowed down to the point my mind races. Noticing the spirits that inhabit my world is dangerous. Part of us becomes them. You can’t defend your soul, it just absorbs, then the spirit moves till your mind awakens, but then it is to late. The damage or blessing is done. Then it’s time to heal or celebrate, but if even for a minute, all you did was drift.

This world is so much more than what we see. I sympathize with those that question truth. It’s hard to create a harmony between what we’re feeling, our action, and our thoughts. It’s much more complex than awareness, it’s freedom.

Birds of a feather

I wonder if the parrot, so high browed and elite, understands what the finch sees from lower heights. The larger effort required to build small nests hidden from an abundance of predatory natures largely goes unnoticed by their illustrious sounding brethren who sit high atop the canopy looking down, but seeing nothing.

With a splash of color they take to the wind with the sound of music and grace to show the beauty of nature while the dull gray existence of the finch continues his labors with flittering glances. Nervous, but industrious, and annoyed at the attention those colors bring to their station.

It’s meticulous and time consuming building these temporary futures. Year after year picking up the remnants of generations gone by and weaving those memories into this years hopes while the privileged beauty of nature sits high above the canopy unaware of the dangers the common bird flees, but oh one day!

Trees fall, as do characters. Chaos ensues and soon the beauty is a liability when the forest is bare, no heights to travel and the nets have no conscious. Soon fates tangle and colorful wings intertwined with perfectly formed squares hold time still and the tree tops are memories that break the spirit or forge the will.

In the market the finch flitters in its cage looking for a way out while the parrot sits still mocking “Hello’s” for a laugh and a meal. Not content, but accepted of his new position. Not quite a pet, but not a prisoner, willing to eat from the hand of his captor for his meager existence in his lower stature.

Oh, but the finch scoffs at such weakness and flits and screeches till it’s wings molt and his captor is tired of cleaning cages and noisy occupants. Evicted, he happily flits and flies through alleys and streets high above the caged beauty of his domesticated brother. One last glance and their eyes meet, sympathy meets jealousy, and off they go, one to glory and the other a prisoner of his own stature.

Eternally he sits atop a wooden perch inside tightly knit metal squares wondering of the beauty of freedom. While the brethren returns to the brush to start anew the time tested heritage of hard work and subtle songs as background noise to those that unknowingly sacrifice theirselves through vain efforts and gaudy displays of character.

Time does tell lies and truths, and space gives a false sense of security, but thought gives will wings.

Awakened

Thoughts of you framed in the shadows of lattice separate my heart from mind. I wonder about in the stillness of a gentle breeze caressing my dreams towards you; towards us intertwined outside of this prison, where flesh is a memory.

There are layers in here that spiral downwards or upwards to freedom. I lay here as a vessel of dreams only to awaken to memories of you wrapped in the hope that Love is all I remember, not what I fear. All these places I travel motionless, they’re sweet lies.

When is a hopeful expression. I hold you in my thoughts as my soul screams for the touch of just a finger tip on my lips to quiet my mind. A life of pictures, words, and dreams meld into the reality that I can have you in my arms once again, but the nightmare begins when I awaken.

Tense Moments

Life is relentless waves of now
Discarded as memories
Or hopes that tomorrow
Will reveal new stories

Live in the moment they say
Finding myself here
Blinded by yesterday
And hopes far or near

You can never go back
As I remember it’s today
And the past is tattooed
In every word I dream or say

Tomorrow is a sunset playing
With the moons patience
While I travel along the horizon
Searching for another chance

I walk through all three tenses
Holding yesterday and tomorrow
Creating now in a moment
Of joy and sorrow

I’m bound by the future
And free of the past
Hoping to hold now
And make forever last

We can’t escape our past.
Or leave tomorrow behind
So now is not the time
Or a single moment to find