empty field

Poem – The Wanderer, part 3

In the middle of a field

empty from horizon to horizon

I wandered beneath empty skies

until the fog appeared and I

changed direction toward

the emerging mass of white

devouring the sky.

 

I wandered faithfully

but with diminishing hope

that at the end of this journey

I would find salvation.

Poem – When the End Arrives

When the end arrives
I will be standing in the empty fields
as the moon overtakes the sun
and the shadows overtake the forest
waiting for you.

Poem – Clearing

From the collection “Beyond the Border Kingdom“, the 13th and final poem.

(1)

threads hang openly
defining a life – what happens
when they are pulled
or cut?

does the puppet fall?
who will mend the broken legs?

one by one the headlights pass
through silence and growing fog
hidden unknown faces travel into
hidden unknown places.

the shadows that follow,
what fills the void and vacuum
the consumed space where light has left,
has forgotten the open fields?

give me truth
give me strength
to expose and kill
the false deity within.

(2)

one last look back
before the stampede begins
my feet in rubber boots
sink into virgin snow.

the tree line leads
thoughts grow beyond the river
past meadows and tundra
to the peak forever in a storm.

the trail ahead is obscured
whoever passed first
their footsteps have been lost
to the landscape…
winter sky
frozen movements
miles of silence
the setting sun and the cold orange and blue.

(3)

unknown moments never experienced
– things I will never know
the harvest moon covers
open fields of wheat and barley,
the open sea, wild horses –
simple beauty.

people around me circle closer
the space I have built
is shrinking, collapsing
I must leave, it is my time to leave.
black outline suspended in flight
one last moment here before my time passes.

the sea slows. light bends across
our eyes. rocks glisten.

(4)

events beyond control
the long black paved road
simmers in the distance
apparitions rise and fall.

the barriers erected soften
the layers peel away
exposing the true self within.

who are you when all else is gone?
what is left when each layer falls?

broken wings
above the blackening sea
merged into the shoreline
a pale hand moves methodically
over the flame releasing
jasmine into the room.
rain blankets the landscape.

over time the room and rain become one
as the being within falls into a temporal sleep.

early morning…
and the suns fingers extend to me.

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Poem – Ravaged

From the collection “Beyond the Border Kingdom“.

an empty road
cuts various swaths
through empty, arid fields
until it ends.

an object prostrated
exactly where the road
ends, the fields border,
is naked, the sun glistening.

this impasse
familiar, repeated.

beyond the body
unknown landscape or wasteland.

disconnected, detached
we watch events unfold.

again.

unaware of the role we play.
unaware of the script.

a vulture descends from nowhere
wrapped in nothing upon the
immobile figure.

and with silent
voices we gaze
and do nothing
and do move.

abandoned fields grow –
things forgotten
things not yet experienced
things the vulture discards

and the ravaged
body
– inside out –
vows
to cultivate and
return to empty fields.

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Poem – Shifted Wolves

From the collection “Beyond the Border Kingdom“.

(1)

In dreams
the white wolf
stands beside
the black wolf

Emerging from
unnamed star fields
walking across
a bridge of light
against gravity
against laws of physics.

I felt no fear.
I felt no fear.

Distant galaxies
produce and consume
light.

Skewed and shifted
before arriving here
and matter we cannot see
fills the space.

This universe
spirals further
from the beginning
stretching into
unknown space
at speeds we
cannot fathom
beyond the traditional
rules we theorized
from the variables
we created.

The universe spirals further
from the beginning
around a black hole –

gathering light
gathering matter.

At the event horizon
pink cubes gather strength.

(more…)

Poem – Birth

In the beginning we come into this space
as innocent beings fumbling around
the empty fields stretching forever.

We stare in wonder and with amazement
as to the endless possibilities
and the control we have of our life.

Then something changes and the field
begins to fill with objects and obstacles
and where there was no path, forks in the road.

How we navigate this field and
how far reaching our sphere of influence
determines the lanterns brightness when we return.

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Copyright (c) 2014-2016 Twisted Root Photography

Poem – Perception and Desire

The empty field of snow and shadow,
a reflection of the desire and intent
to start the day new and leave behind the past,
build the best path into the future.

To become what the mind desires,
the field is waiting and as an extension
of you and as a plane of existence in
universe, it is limitless.

And it is yours.

And all that you allow there.

My field is filled with snow,
surrounded by trees,
beneath the cold, harsh sun,
and shadows haunt every move.

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Poem – I am Out There

(1)

Frequent glimpses of moving
shadows and white figures.

(2)

One last time I enter the cold
darkness and find a mass near

the bushes, but this object
reflects nor consumes light

and I immediately feel a connection
and cry when I know this is my shadow.

(3)

A view across the expanse of empty
cold ice covering the fields

we long ago ran across playing
tag and enjoying the last summer of youth.

(4)

Brief glimpses of time I have not
felt or tasted consume my thoughts

when I let go.

Sounds and images of a home
I have not yet found, yet claw for with all my strength.

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Poem – Awoke

I awoke in the spring
steeped in memories and
lost dreams, standing on the
shore of an unnamed lake
steeped in golden light.

That path I have never left
empties into the fields
of infinite possibilities and choices
and when I am present I see you both hand in hand.

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Poem – Silent Music of Creation

When the nearest stars are observed
and the furthest ancient light is discovered
we see what became the past far removed
from the beginning.

If we remove ourselves from physical bonds
and trivial thoughts, what used to be feeling
transforms into knowing that what is felt and tasted
is no different than the first particle sent into the void.

If we allow the light and dark matter
to return back to us, to remind us
of our own beginning we see and
hear the music of energy and motion.

If we extend our imagination
and slow the waves of energy
we see infinite colors and
and the building blocks

of a concept still mystifying
the child standing in awe in the empty fields.

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