friday | october 7 | 2011

easy offence.

i stand before this fence,
wondering what it will take
to climb to its other side and
discover greener pastures.

but the next thought is one
of anticipatory regret;
what color will the grass be
when i actually arrive?

will i find a lush garden,
or an dead desert dune?
will i breath in ocean breeze,
or choke on toxic fume?

when this happens, will the fence
then be impossible to pass,
and will i be stuck in a world
of fruitless un-utopia?

and how long would it take
for me to realize a mistake?
would it happen now, or happen then,
or would it happen at all?

perhaps it's best i just stay here
and brave what things may come,
but even here, in this way,
my question stays the same:

is it worth the risk?

thursday | october 6 | 2011

hearts and crafts

if i were a point on these
intersecting lines,
would i have any idea
about the interwoven reality
apart from my singular perspective?

would i see the patchwork
as no more than a shadow,
or would some part of me
believe in a greater pattern
where all things form one shape?

how, then, does my mode of sight
presently differ from such
misperception of infinitude?
what world do i affirm with
such limitation of vision?

more than this, what kind of
edifice would humanity make
in this light? would it stand
on self-sustained hope, or would it
crumble under the burden of sufficiency?

it must be, then, that some Crafter
sees that which is obscure;
opaque points of view cannot deny
such intricacy or affirm closed causality.
indeed, this is the eternal Fact.

wednesday | october 5 | 2011

on the road.

continually i find the path to be clear

only where i know must next step.

blurred tangents and vague off-roads,

somehow magnetic, hold no vision of

what may come, tempt to sway me.

i waver to and fro, but this Rock keeps

me straight. i may lose sight (more than

may) of the goal of this pesky trail, with

all these turns and tides through time.

it's no strange wonder that travelers lose

direction when they smell the flowers. but so

i keep my feet strong and follow bends

as they come. full of anticipation and wonder,

i resolve to trust the Way.

tuesday | october 4 | 2011

another day.

the end of each day

bears with it the promise

of tomorrow. the unending flow

of sun ups-and-downs reiterates

the earth's diurnal vow, and

for a moment,

i can believe that

i won't be this way forever.

the cover of dusk-lit clouds contains

me within the shell of my body,

and once again, i'm human.

i hope, and am sometimes confident,

that my spirit will merge with

terrestrial revolution and i, too,

will be enlightened by the Risen Sun.

i sing my morning song with

beaked brethren, blessing the world

and all that is in it,

and my soul wakes from the mire of sleep,

enlivened by the One who make all things new.

monday | october 3 | 2011

the art show.

why are these pictures missing?

have they been stolen? or

is it just the next cool thing

to frame a white piece of paper?

or perhaps paintings below

have been obscured by this blank

canvas in some great scheme -

a war between two artists.

one can almost imagine

competition for dominion

over the entire artsy scene.

there isn't enough room

in the gallery for

the both of them.

yet it seems that this obscurity

is one artist's only work. he

claims its credit, but for some

critics, its emptiness is a hard sell.

there are, of course, as at any

show, those who see its worth.

the trained eye, however, can

see the silence for what it is.

they know that somewhere

deep below, flows the passion

of an Artist whose very Art

is Life. His images are hidden,

though not quite lost. His

work is restoration. the recall

of that which has been covered

with the fraud of modern art.

tireless renovation reveals His handiwork.

but what of the canvas of my heart

when he uncovers its dimly wrapped frame?

what image will thus appear,

and whose likeness shall it bear?

sunday | october 2 | 2011

arbortrary judgment.

often i have wondered how others

perceive my outer shell, and how

it portrays that which appears real.

broken bark and biting bugs

may be what they first meet.

the burrow of termites have

left their tunneled mark. a clear

infestation that rots the face of my life.

or maybe they see the burn,

the scar of that conflagration (i escaped

a fate darker than any would desire).

and then there's the cracks where

lightning struck and splintered

my weather-wearied wood.

they see the busted branches where

boys would bring their budding loves

and declare their hearts' intent.

the scattered fragments of my beaten body

bear the marks that meet men's minds,

which manage to make meaning of nothing

more than chips and scratches and holes

and fragile twigs and old memories.

and yet, they fail to see within this skin,

unknowing that deep inside is a soul

one-hundred-and fifty rings deep. i have seen the

rising and setting of more moons than any man.

i have heard the hushed vows of sweethearts

in the breeze. my inner world never stops.

through noetic xylem and phloem, i find

the deepest Water, and no one knows

i drink my heart's content.

i stand firm despite the wind, albeit

escaping somewhat scathed. and more

than any other i know, i turn to the Sun

and find His Light, my truest source of Life.

saturday | october 1 | 2011

davy jones' successor.

where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

when my father gave me this key,

he said that it would open to me,

an endless reserve of treasure.

"where," asked i, with plunderous thoughts,

"might this treasure be found?" and begged

him, please, for an "x" to mark the spot.

"try as you might," responded he,

"you'll never find the chest. for

Only One knows where this treasure lies."

but his first words of vast wealth

had already staked their claim,

and i was bent on conquest.

i scoured the seas

and pillaged the people

of many a mountain town.

i sought high and low

through morning and night

in search of this great gold.

i was met with utter despair

as lock after lock grinned with malicious intent,

and tightly remained secured.

for twenty years i searched

and never once came close.

but now the Mystery of this bitter key

plagued me most of all.

and then one day, i came to

an isle, that, save for One Man,

seemed all but deserted.

"greeting, pilgrim," said He to i,

as he sat on a hill, against a great Tree,

though the Tree seemed held up by Him.

"a great treasure, I see, is that which you seek."

He discerned as He gazed in my eye.

wearied with work, i only could nod.

"you have no map," He prophesied,

"and your journey as led you here."

i dimly agreed, and He bid me to sit.

"i know where to find that which has been

the longing of your life's looking."

and with these words i sat up aright and begged Him tell me more.

no longer in want for this great wealth

but only with desire to be set free,

i told Him all i'd done.

He said He could lead me and offered me rest

as He saw i was beleaguered. but the price

for which He offered this freedom was the contents of what we find.

i gladly agreed, "all i have is Thine,"

and surrendered the contents of the chest.

he looked in my soul and said that all that remained was the key.

after great struggle i managed to find

the strength to loose the key from my neck.

i gave it to Him, and with that He grinned and called me "friend."

He bade me lie down and open my shirt,

and for some strange purpose,

i did His command.

and with one motion, He came over to me,

and stuck the key deep in my chest.

He unlocked my ribs and removed my heart,

and said, "I'll keep this treasure with Mine."