Echo

Distance is not a mediator

A mountain is not an altar

How far?

Hold the cards close to your chest

Another star

Nearer than the rest

A voice, just an echo 

Chamber of daydreams

The heart is beginning to lean

How many?

Every time I planned my future

Do you believe any?

The ways you lean on her

A song, just an echo

And it echoes from the peaks

It haunts you in your sleep

Why?

My beloved is your no one

Do you cry?

My place is not a home

It’s just another echo

Learn to Love it All

I now sit under a tree 

Covered in scarves of spanish moss

That blow in the breeze.

How sorrowful that we so easily forget

Or become blind to the beauty of the wind breathing,

The warm touch of the sun to the spirit,

The tranquil treasures 

And hidden blessings

Of this earth-life.

Oh heart,

Learn to love every breath,

Every moment in time,

Because so fast, 

The days die.

Oh spirit,

Learn to grasp for peace,

Learn to let go of the fears,

And gaze upon the glory of the horses galloping freely in the fields,

Of the sun sobbing 

Through the delicate cloths of spanish moss.

Oh soul, 

Learn to love it all

Before it is gone.

Narrow

I

The cool night closes; dawn rushes in.

Warmth emanates from the first rays of the sun.

As dew drenches the hills,

and the pebbly side of the path,

a flower is sprouting.

It pushes past petals and breaks

Free.

Blossoms unfurl and drink the light,

while roots dig, finding— 

cold stone, only.

The petals devour the light, heedless.

The rocky ground is littered with 

withered stems of char.

The sun unfurls.

II

We traverse the crumbling shale bridge,

suspended above the pit.

Screams,

many, many

from below.

As I watch, —a friend

collapses, rolls,

plummets

through the

darkness,

mingling.

I push on.

III

The smallest thing is me.

I gaze upon the dark Iris;

It draws me in and repels me;

It is the eye of God.

Who am I, to behold the unfathomable?

Swaths of chromatic glitter

Swirl around the pupil,

Contorting and twisting

In rhythm, spiraling inwards.

My mind tries to comprehend

The scale of the universe,

And it cannot.

IV

I weep over the charred body,

until it fades to vapor.

One ember remains.

I cast it into the singularity.

Restless

To be in this world 

Is to be not finding a home. 

Sure, I can walk alongside you 

And stop to rest by the pond. 

We can stay still watching so long 

That we see a sycamore leaf 

Fall off and break the painted glass of the water.

But I must turn back soon,

Let go the gift of your hand,

And return to my cinderblock room

That will be someone else’s in a year.

My Love Whom is Like Thee

In the receding light, in last ray 

When the bees slumber and crickets harp

In that sweet vale, sit with me in this bay

Where wind dances upon waters sharp 

The trees sway and weep to a silent song 

Come sit with me, my love 

Let our hearts sing harmoniously strong

One that only lovers true, can hereof

Dressed by the colors of the sun's dilation

In all of the realm of creation 

Yet one I’ve found surpasses them all

The Retreat of Life

Warm breaths in dying days, when the light wanes

As dirt turns to stone and paths don habiliments

Of auburn and memories. A mourner’s train

Trails along sylvan halls for she forlorns a love dead. Bent,

Tree’s canopies crumble beneath northern gales and western tear’s

But in waning hours I shall sit in glade and watch in sweet bliss

—I shall hold to the dying warmth and cling to that I hold dear—  

The procession, as the sun kisses me one last time