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.

At the dawn of each day
our past experiences
become memories frozen
in the depths of our mind,
kept safe until we need
a reminder of how we got here.

Memories of distant surfaces
of planets I have not seen.

Mountains beyond the eyes reach
and multiple suns that never set.

Where is the place beyond the
known expanse of space?

I see white petals
falling into the black water

over and over and over.

I stand at the confluence
and water washes over my feet.

I kneel at the confluence
and purple light washes over my body.

2016-01-02 07.36.23

The photographs we find in
dusty hidden boxes
in places we have forgotten
have stories etched in the faded lines
and memories hidden in the subdued colors.

FullSizeRender 14

As with everything
time marches in one direction
that we perceive but in quiet
moments we reflect back on
past time, bring it into the present,
and savor every morsel we remember.

The air I taste and breath
surfaces sharp and distinct
memories from a time I had

Across the empty fields
losing to the shadows
the land becomes the physical
manifestation of my mind.

I walk around and examine
each thread, each connection
some are familiar and soft
some are foreign and sharp.

FullSizeRender 7

The night becomes the morning and
the sun lays across thinning snow
and dormant vegetation.

The darkness and silence
are broken when the trees
become engulfed in light.

A small window into the
vast universe opens above
the horizon.

FullSizeRender 14

FullSizeRender 15

If I pull back the thick fog
they still consume my eyes.

If I run into the water and let go,
let the waves push and pull me as

I fall toward the floor, they
consume my conscious thoughts

and what was empty and calm
becomes clouded and my next

actions are in conflict to
what I was taught and I am

left with the ancient memories,
a stain of my former being.

I don’t need words and pages
to explain the concept of hell –
just being human, just living
will teach you invaluable lessons,
will drag you through depths
testing and defining character
while breaking what you thought you know,
who you thought you were.

Hell is boundless and placeless –
stop for a moment while watching a version of yourself
repeat mistakes and moments, the outcome the same,
the soul that much more jaded with each pass.

Is that any way to live?
Is that what we were meant for?

What is this fire we walk within?
It is the experiences we ignore.
It is the respect we chose to forget.


As the months melt away
into weeks and days
the memories become stronger
bouncing from everywhere
fast and furious they
fill waking thoughts
and serve as a reminder
that reminiscing not only
keeps someone’s memory alive
but reminds you of the path
they created for you
of the person they believed you are.