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Time’s Plan
Another year on the calendar has passed and we celebrate. A celebration of accomplishments and of moving beyond events and moments we wish to forget and gain distance between. But time has a plan for us. In the day-to-day scheme of life and the normal cycle, time is always moving forward. Ticking away at the…
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Poem – How to Move Forward
Falling into the future from the present I sense time is changing, its motion pushing me forward into moments I may not be ready for. While science states that time does not change, how much do we know of the physical universe we infer and how much exists beyond the borders and boundaries we see…
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Poem – What is Beyond this Current State
Frozen in time. Where do we go from here? A chance to reassess our place. What is beyond here? Beyond here becomes what we choose.
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Poem – Today
Each day while comprising the experiences of the previous, is itself new, and waiting for what you make of the time.
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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…
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Poem – Each Day
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…
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Poem – Origins
In the quiet moments free of our internal conversations and struggles, the world around us opens and we hear a song born beyond our vision, carrying with it memories of the first light, of the origin of ourselves.
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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…
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Poem – Fragmented Days
The more we hear the more we turn away from the voices carried from beyond the horizon on broken winds as each day chips away at the armor. Thoughts scatter through the empty field past the tree line and I stop at the border. What inhabits the forest I cannot see or hear? Days broken.…