into the flames the willow tree burns
smoldering leaves melt from the crown
dripping into the snow.
I walk away as the last root burns
and shake gasoline from my fingertips.
the waiting messiah smiles
snow building around its presence.
the thinning horizon meets the
whitening land as shadows disperse.
when the last ember cools and
fire and roar leave this place,
an orchestra plays softly.
I turn back – the beings presence
moving left to right and we walk
together toward the disappearing horizon.
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Sands cover the landscape spewing steam.
The vast ocean surfaced with the grains I have discarded.
Passing through dimensions and space and time.
Passing through all matter.
I wait here on the rocky shores.
The shores of an unnamed planet.
What we have spans time.
I know beyond what the immediate senses are telling me
that you will soon emerge from the depths and upon
recognizing my presence, we can walk into the sunset
bordered by two moons.
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Regardless of what the trail is made of,
it connects us to the earth,
guides us through the forest,
allows us to be within.
In the stationary silence
I seek answers that already
lie at me feet.
I look for skies that already
fill my vision.
And I seek truth to my purpose
that has played out for hundreds of years.
What hands move the pieces in this universe?
What hands guide the universes along the surface
of the vast oceans and between each grain of sand?
Standing on the front porch
I watch the sun rise over the
distant mountains and first light
run across the empty fields.
Morning wind pushes scattered stalks and coffee steam
while bird songs emerge from the tree line.
High bulbous clouds assume many colors
as the sun reaches higher.
Leroy lays at my side sleeping
as we watch night become the day.
Spring has filled in the once barren forest
and we witness the green waves rolling
toward the blue horizon.
What we have spans time,
existing without place,
breathing with each ray of light,
captured in morning waves.