Thursday, November 19, 2009

a fallen leaf

If we don't know life, how can we know death?

Do you just love it
when a faded-way-past-the-stars memory bubbles back to life
in such a small space of the mind?
Well, the mind is relatively tiny when you give half a speckle of the cosmos a thought.
Let's just call it a falling leaf.

The leaf tears away from the thread of its branch.

There was a time...
When I was young and quite reckless.
There was a man twice my age.
Something like untouchability laid on his walking grass.
He had that twinkle in his eyes.
He saw the same in mine.
Our eyes met.

Far from romance,
but it had to do something with passion.
not of passionate romance,
but of ever so plain passion
for what floats of the life mission.
Who knows what transpired as his plan
but now it is the unthinkable
the story unfolds now.

The leaf tears away from the very branch.

He was a magician.
He believed in magic.
He needed an assistant
who believed in the same as he did.

Showered I was with gifts;
a yellow rose,
thoughtful letters,
most of all,
the very alive twinkle in his eyes.

The leaf floats in midair.

Never did I feel more alive
or in more awe of the mystery that seemed to roam within life
especially when questions were terribly beyond rife.
You see, I was barely of the driving age.
I had years before adulthood would wind upon me.
So, I never did much but smile
and accept his gifts.
Might have written him once or twice.
In my dreams, did I assist his startling magic with far willing exuberance.
In "reality",
it never took place.

I can not help but wonder
no more than a chance encounter
showed me a profound wanderer
to say the least.
I thought it over and over
until that space of invisible matter
called time took the thought
and parted it bit by bit.
a little past soon after,
I barely could remember.

The leaf gently glides on the ground
and now is amongst its brothers and sisters.

Think of a falling leaf.
See a falling leaf.
Watch it until it reaches the ground.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

the sense of being alive

So, is it....
to connect
to disconnect?

Then, you might have been told
that you have your own road.
others may beg to differ.
They say, be like a heifer.
Follow the rest,
stumble onward in a straight line lest
the ultimate destination be a slaughter house.

Why leave the house
just to choke on false prejudice?
They say damage lies within the loss of objectivity.
I say...
to live rationally
is a shove towards ethereal spoliation.

Rove from the objective eye for once
and walk by all contraries.
After all,
being told how to participate
is but an imposition.
An imposition to what, you may ask,...
an imposition to the development of what is often unjustly shriveled.
The shriveled lies in the dormant core of a human behind a mask.
Lies the shriveled in so many
that it makes my head spin
like a disembodied fin.

Do not let this confuse you.
Let's just chalk this up as
a pep talk
about a way of life.
Like a beehive,
you never know how much life lies within
until you shake awake.

Monday, November 2, 2009

a thought on a piece

"Take Your Son, sir!"
by Ford Madox Brown (1851-6)
::oil on canvas::

Words dribble like the salvia of a starving dog.
Actions leap like a jaguar capturing its prey.

Still, bless all the children that roam in this... world.
Let them be with whole hearts
and know love.