Poem – A Reflection in Time

The child stares into the mirror of the adult
he is to become and both wonder why.

the adult sees a child running through
sand ahead of the waves and the look
of amazement when birds take flight

the child sees an adult lost
black eyes cold and the look
of bewilderment when he realizes
the path from here,

the only way forward,
the choices that lie ahead.

how do I get through the mirror?

the child sees a stray dog
and runs, chasing it into the water.

the adult sees a stray man
and plans to run, escape this life.

events begin to play upon the mirror
and the adult can only watch and remember.

thinking back to the one moment
the planted seed took root
the forked road vanished beneath black dirt.

only the shadow is visible in the mirror.

an outstretched hand reaches for
the other as lights fade away
and the mirror shatters.
duluth-20040425-northshore-06

Poem – An Eye Turned Inward

It is frighteningly easy to give up hope and lose a sense of place and purpose when the earth is scorched and the people are lost. Miles and oceans separate lives, cultures, borders, and tragedies. Arbitrary definitions aim to keep lines drawn and natural tendencies in check, but this only suppresses the internal instincts, the desire to fight, the need for hope – prolongs the true being which walks the ridge-line, getting closer to the shift.

The evening sky reflects the fields of glass, the desert sands, the tropical rain forest, the calving glaciers – a mirror of processes beyond our control digging deep, removing us from the present day, existing beyond time and distance when the connections and energy between everything was more clear and made sense.

The evening sky is an eye turned inward, focusing light on our true being and the threads we all share, the bonds we must strengthen and the call we must listen to as the sun sets and the darkness descends across the fields.

An Eye

An Eye

Poem – The Sea – Part 1

Part one of “The Sea”. Part two should be up in a couple of days.


Across the sea of glass
an island of trees bending
heads bowed the sun does
not live here has not in years.

One tree is black not the
green you would expect
and it moves with the wind
and occasionally barks.

Cautious steps I begin
walking toward the island
an unknown distance but
I have long forgotten

about time and I have no
feeling or concept of where this is.

 

Poem – Mirror 2

Some mornings the face
turns and questions.

I have no answers except
confusion and distance.

Is this where I wanted to be?
Which version of me made this decision?

If now is the culmination of
three – past, present, and future…

and I see this confluence in the mirror
what does the reflection see?

Are the points of time the same
or the opposite, and in this

convergence what part does the
universe play?

Do the laws of physics
still apply or has this

situation elevated to a
higher state of being,

one which I do not understand
am not ready for, or this just a mirror?

Poem – Mirror

The mirror is still and silent.
The mirror has no voice.

The mirror follows me
neither of us has a choice.

I watch myself
watching me.

The mirror reflects the sky
reflecting the sea.

Passing time has brought
changes and distance

the face grey with wrinkles
this person makes less sense.

How did I get here
where do I desire to go?

If the mirror is my reflection
what more must I show?

Poem – Fragments from Absentia 19

(1)

In this dream I watched
your silhouette dress.

Sounds of the streets below
carried by the autumn wind.

We had a place to be
but I do not remember where.

I caught a glance of your eyes
in the mirror and the soft blue

with a hint of smile told
me this was not real.

(2)

I wandered the streets
of mirrors for days
and weeks searching for the
one last person I knew.

(3)

I stood at the corner
beneath buildings of
concrete and glass.

Rain fell everywhere but
upon me and I walked

dry and untouched down
empty streets and empty lives.

(4)

I stood at the corner
and waited for the last bus.

Its doors opened but no one exited.
I boarded and there was no driver.

The inside was dark and wet.
I stumbled around trying to

find anything and after
hours of a fruitless search

I sat down and fell asleep
while the bus left the station.


Downtown Streets, by Twisted Root Studios – http://www.twistedrootstudios.com

Downtown Streets

Downtown Streets, by Twisted Root Studios – http://www.twistedrootstudios.com

Poem – Where is the Path?

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The burning city
settles below the horizon
as evening darkens trees
and empty streets.

~

Lost into haze I
let go and allow instincts
to guide me through each
day, unaware of each
step and each mile that
passes, I arrive and
I leave this space.

~

I see black shadows
across the ceiling, in utter silence
neither of us make a move, no breath,
no physical movements,
just black air and spirit.

~

I look into the
mirror back at the
person I have become.
Surgical scars, greying hair,
and other signs of advancing age
or too much time on this earth,
dominate the picture and
serve to remind me of
progression, mortality, and
a hint of what lies ahead.

~

I peer closer and beyond
at the intricate black
lines, curves, bent, and
shaped into reminders of
the life I have led,
experiences, to guide
this path and set the stage
for the next.

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