shadows

Poem – What is Left

I see shadows drifting
behind the trees.

Across the wetlands dogs bark,
a warning of coyotes stirring about.

Jets crisscross the empty sky
bathing in evening light.

As this day closes
and the night takes over

I am left here in the darkness
with the exposed version of myself.

Poem – This Unknown Path They Created

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(1)

The march from across the fields
and sea signals it is time.

Are they peering across the empty space
and watching events unfold?

Are they among us now and with every move
and change are the unseen influence?

And whose path do they desire us to follow?

(2)

I walk across the field and only ask why.

The answer comes quietly from the machine watching every move.

Is that the shadow that has been following me?

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Poem – Night Becomes the Day

The empty fields
will breath darkness
until giving way
to the increasing light.

What today is hidden in shadows
will slowly be revealed.

What will you see when
the night becomes the day?

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Poem – The Scorched Field

Across an empty field scorched
with morning light I see
shadows dancing along the treeline
filling empty spaces.

Is this my field?

I remember little prior to this moment
as winter has settled across the land

and in the depth of winter
we retreat into the awareness of self.

I seek warmth from the shadows
emerging from the scorched field.

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Poem – Winter Sky

The winter sky holds
the empty field
waiting for the
snow shadows
to fall with silence
and with peace.

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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 – The Border Kingdom

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We drive the dusty road
east from the mountains toward
the flat land not divulging
any secrets from this distance.

Still morning the intense sun
withers fallen vegetation and
quickly dissipates dew clinging to
cactus needles.

We have not spoken since the pass
where we studied the horizon
surveying what we left behind
and the road leading into the unknown.

(2)

Thousands of acres on both sides with
open fields fenced yet empty,
arid, harsh wind blows dirt, small
stones, and tumbleweed across the road.

I turn to say anything, to comment
on the traffic, and I think you are
asleep, at least drifted beyond the
shared space – I decide to remain quiet.

The morning sun has become the afternoon
companion we now follow as the road
veered west and rises toward the
cloud-free sky.

Mile 418. Unfolded, stained, torn map
found in the dumpster at the
last gas station says there is a town
and a river near. I see only tar and dirt.

(3)

I remember watching grayish skeleton limbs
against milky blue backdrop through
quarter sliced windows blocking
winter wind and snow

while you slept near the fire
on the black leather couch
you brought with
next to the dog you desired.

Your struggle became
more apparent to fit
two separate lives
until I relented.

(4)

I imagine not God’s kingdom
behind pearled gates transcended from mortal forms
meshed with forward singular time
wrapped in fear and repentance

but a kingdom earth bound
free of time, free of the wind
torn sands. Here dreams flow
spherically with no sense of direction.

(5)

And in the last dream I remember
the river flowed beneath skipping feet
chasing prophecies and false prophets,
spoken words and brutal lies.

I saw life fading away, fading into vastness
I tried to pull the visible strings together.
I saw a painted face in the sky above,
one of the many angry gods of war.

(6)

I see fire building
across the open field
and briefly invent an
overgrown empty field burning.

Before the shift
rumors crept into conversations
of the border kingdom
high in the mountains

a city of mist and rain
immune to desert wind.

Even the name gives birth
to images of purity and salvation.

A place to find and enter
leaving behind and never looking back.

(7)

In the dark days
darkened further by doubt
time slows, lengthens
pause between beats,

the space pulls strings
emerging from the mind
and eventually each pore
turning you inside out

until you do not know
you. Who is that in the mirror
and why are you staring at me?
What is this you are showing me?

That is not real, that is not me.
In your eyes you have one truth,
in mine I have another. What separates us
besides the glass mirror?

(8)

My faith began to waver
when grandpa passed.

Years spent building a foundation
enforced by dreams of winter
laying nuclear ash upon the
ground, vanished
when the vessel
released the soul.

We have become God’s of
individual domains defined by the
things acquired, captured, and scored.

I listen to words of peers and words of teachers.
The shaman speaks of reality and no reality, of mind control,
of the matrix infiltrating mind and spirit and becoming sleep,
unaware, lost, wandering that dark black path
through an empty field yet not realizing the empty field
is empty, the reasons for being empty, is the true path,
is our own creation.

Sigh…

When did this, this life
become this hard?

I listen to these words and in
the same breath know there is no
one way through the everlasting shift,
searching for my own salvation.

Like fragments
I choose the pieces that make sense
that ease the deep fire burning within.

This fire I must learn to harness,
to control, to bend, to shape

until I become the shape shifter
able to take back control.

(9)

We approach the border –
a wide river moving swift and cold –
and stop. Both looking through the
bug-encrusted windshield and our hands finally touch
to remember this last speck of civilization.

(10)

I used to dream day and night
of flying above the clouds into
upper reaches of the atmosphere closer
to other borders, other layers
of various gases, closer to the burning
sun and becoming cold and frozen
without direction, spinning,
until a different light skewed
my vision and stripped everything away
and I was able to fly unburdened and free.

(11)

I pause briefly just before
the bridge, a final thought
to be discarded, one less
burden we must bring with us.

We cross the border under
the new moon with shadows locked
safely away, to be revealed
when reaching the kingdom.

Poem – Beyond Control

I move across the empty fields
toward the tree line and pause.

There are shadows and things unseen
at work as the sky bends to will of the forest.

There is an energy flow through everything and
if I clear my mind I see ten thousand beings

and the light they cast down the path.

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Poem – Home

Home is that place
with the open gate
and the familiar road
lined with tree shadows
and silence of a full
heart and a clear mind.

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Poem – In the Shadows

In the shadows
there is a path

there is hope
if that is what

we choose
to see.

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