Beyond the fields of flowers
reaching the horizon,
another field exists
reaching beyond the stars.
This home, this planet
floats in the endless
expanse of space though
fields of time and gravity.
We harvest the land
and pull sustenance from the earth,
while we gaze upon the heavens
and the possibility of other life.
https://iso.500px.com/usa-night-sky-photos/ Farming the Rift III by Aaron Groen on 500px.com
Scattered across the window
Overlooking the rocky outline
Of the lake shore.
Cast from the memories of thousand years
Together we embrace as the fire
Fills the black sky with our own universe
And the reflection of the time we have endured
And the souls we have emerged as on the other side.
Standing side by side with flow stretching across endless stars and planets
we emerge each awakening flanked by the white and black wolf.
Together we will enter Valhalla and live among the giants
who have guided and taught us ways of the ancients.
Late evening summer sun
I see shadows drifting
behind the trees.
Across the wetlands dogs bark,
a warning of coyotes stirring about.
Jets crisscross the empty sky
bathing in evening light.
As this day closes
and the night takes over
I am left here in the darkness
with the exposed version of myself.
A follow-up to a previous post – Beneath the Surface
What lies beneath the surface,
the playground of ancient times,
lands ruled by survival,
raw and primal,
we forever live on some edge
with a defensive posture
ready to protect at all costs.
That slippery edge of snow and ice
straddling deep valleys,
like the string holding a life together,
a tether anchoring to some reality.
Shifting through photos
I feel no connection, no recognition
to the person with time and years
ahead of them, looking to the future.
Pausing at one in particular in the midst of summer,
oak leaves burning with white light,
the sun slowly fading into the horizon
behind the hill at the street’s end.
What was etched into the mind
when the image became a permanent
moment tossed into a shoe box?
What was the last thought defining that moment?
Years will pass and that young face
will undergo an outward expression
of the strife, agony, depression, and final transformation
built upon the experiences, cast from the struggle.
In time what we are in this life
circles back to the foundation,
the hands pushing up from the earth,
the roots feeding a child’s growth and imagination.
Summer clouds through the pine trees.
Do each of us have a monster inside
a beast we strive to hide from the
world, those close we love, and from our self?
At the end of each day
what are we truly running from?
What shadows lurk in the forest
and what shadows do we carry?
Across the fields with scattered snow
mountains rise from the earth
in spires of solid granite,
nearly featureless – how will
this barrier be overcome?
Standing at the base of the mountains
what hope I brought here
disperses on the cold wind
scouring the surface of the empty fields,
those fields I left behind years ago
when the beast chased me away.
Summer. Days of long hot sun,
the wind scorching exposed skin
and throwing sand and twigs everywhere.
Summer. Early mornings when the sun
first reaches above the pine tree tops
and the light squirms its way through
openings in the pole barn roof, tapping
on closed eyes. Slowly the whippoorwill
across the seasonal creek is heard and
the acorns hitting roof every time
the wind arrives.
Summer. Afternoon storms that build
and tower above the flight paths
of airplanes, the silent clouds
with layers of colors, various shapes,
and ever-changing patterns.
Before the storms arrive as the sky darkens,
I am serenaded by the whispering pine
and the silent awakening of not being alone,
of having a connection with the earth
and to each tree providing shelter.
In unbound dreams
steeped in limitless colors
the machines sleep.
Metal skin glistens
as another day begins,
as our held breath releases.
We start with the same promise
that this will be the last day
and we will stand here united.
On this war ground with the rising sun
we circle the sleeping machines…
I keep it within reach
just beneath the surface.
It is always awake with eyes
open watching me and ready
to arise at the simplest command
always there beneath the surface.
Time has not soften the beast.
Time has not taken away the power.
Over and through the years
I have learned to control
when the beast arises
the appropriate moments to step aside.
