now

Poem – Tomorrow

As my years here have grown,
and the world around shrinks,
the uncertainty of time increases,
and if I only learn one thing in this life,
it is this:

Cherish today, the people, animals, trees, right here in your grasp, as tomorrow they may slip away.  Tomorrow may arrive, or it may not.



Poem – In This Life

I see the day slip into the night
and the trees I am surrounded by
reach into the darkness.

In another life after
I am the same essence
in a metallic shell.

In another life before
I am the farmer clearing
fields for wheat and corn.

In this life now
I am the culmination
of all experiences.

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Poem – Time

Every day is a battle
to find more or slow down or move faster.

Yet time is not aware of our desires
and continues in one steady direction.

The very definition of time is based on
processes and natural events occurring

millions of miles beyond the grasp
of worn and tired hands.

Yet we continue to pin our decisions,
our careers, our relationships, and our lives on time.

We lose focus on now as we reminisce of the past
and wish for the future.

We forget how precious time can be
if we choose to accept our loss of control.

We can only control the present, the people,
and the moments we hold close.

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Poem – Eyes

In what appears as two strangers
passing in an overcrowded
train station waiting to
be taken home, I saw you
in the mirror and aside from
the same face, the eyes
were deeper, content,
focused on today.

Poem – Each Day

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As my years have passed
more slowly now that I stop
sometimes to catch a deep breath
and really inhale the rising scent of pine,

I see that each day is a gift
and the time in my past cannot be changed,
and the future is always shrouded in mystery,
and I can only live in and embrace the present.

Poem – Rebirth

At the top of the mountain
beyond the pass
I stopped and looked back
at the path I wandered
and there were no footsteps
in the powdered snow.

Further beyond the talus and scree
the empty field burns

and I watch with waning
fear as I let go of that

previous version of me
burning beneath the tree of life.

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Poem – Tomorrow

There is always tomorrow
to put off tasks and obligations.

There is always tomorrow
to pay the bills and do laundry.

There is always tomorrow
to worry and fret.

There may not be tomorrow
to say I love you and now is the time.

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Thoughts on the Empty Field

I have written a bit about the concept of an empty field and what this means spiritually, mentally, and physically to myself as a wandering soul, a student of this life struggling to relate and come to terms with previous lives.  The empty field is the essence of the mind and energy transferred to a physical state, represented by a field, landscape, or a similar feature of nature.  This field is like a chessboard, and there are pieces representing parts of the person such as memories, roadblocks, behaviors, and habits that prevent a more peaceful and happier existence.  We do not have to struggle and suffer. We can choose and recast ourself and re-enter the world.


Romanticism of the Empty Field

(1)

From two perspectives –
the field gives, and
the field takes.

I see mountains and other
landscapes miles away, yet
here they have no influence.

Yet I cannot help wonder
what was here before me?
Before emptiness?
Does this field hold the
mountains higher, or offer
clear water to the gods?

On this particular day
cloudless and bright
there was no wind,
there was no sound.

I stopped on a single boulder
with eyes closed and filled the
emptiness with childhood memories –
moments we bring into the present
and view with a diffused and
soft light – the romanticism
of our past.

What happens to the real
memories, the emotions – where
are these upon the empty field?

Have I already incorporated
what I needed, taken the experience
and lessons, and discarded what
does not work, what only
weighs me down?

(2)

When I stand before the
entrance to the valley
and the immense gates
ask questions of me

how do I answer truthfully
when I left part of me
scattered and broken
fractured and fragmented
across millions of miles
of empty field?

Does the gate see the
same light or hear
the same vibrations as I?

(3)

I step down from the boulder
and vow to recast the person
I am into the person I should be
and begin to reassemble the being
from the pieces.

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.

Where

It seems I have been lost in the ether again.  The weather here has been chaotic, oscillating within days between mid-summer and early fall.  My thoughts seem to follow this pattern and are in synch with the weather, as my writing has gone from productive to nothing and everything in between.

Recent events, including a minor car accident, and a cursory glance at the headlines this morning, have further cemented the mantra “take nothing for granted”.  It does not matter if you believe in re-incarantion, re-distribution of energy, karma, various laws of physics, quantum mechanics, or the beautiful and sublime blending of science and spirituality, now is what we have, and are the cards we get to play with.  Make the best hand possible.

This includes having peanut M&Ms for breakfast, even the unnatual glow-in-dark yellow ones.