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It lies before me---
patient, but eager
Awaiting its Destiny.
Actualization
Transformation
What now shall it be?
Novel or Journal entry
Prose or Poetry
A recording of images shown only to me?
"Write!" the Muse commands.
My pen finds its way into my hand.
Myriad thought twirling
New ideas swirling
Longing to be born---
Creativity.
The River
Flow, river, flow
Tell me what you know
Of times long past, of distant days
Ancient Waterway.
Before our footprints touched your shores,
Before mechanical birds above you soared,
Before the concrete and steel beams…
What dreams did you dream?
What mysteries are hidden beneath your depths?
Who has seen what you have seen?
When this Grandfather Oak a mere sapling stood
Amidst the cypress, pine, and cedar wood,
You looked up at the stars and understood
the Source of All That Is.
You rose and fell
as the Moon waned and swelled;
your waves danced in the summer storms.
Through sun and rain,
life you sustained,
on your constant trek to the sea.
And ‘though times change
here you remain--
faithful to that to which you’ve been ordained.
Show us your wisdom so that we may see
we have much to learn from thee.
Breakthrough
Whispers of a memory
Fading with time.
Mists before the rising sun.
Dawn rips the gossamer veil.
Shadows flee…
And what was buried in sands of antiquity
Resurrects to again be mourned:
---“What do you want?
Go away! Leave me be!”
(I will not rest until you learn from me.)
---“What can be learned from so much pain?”
(Wisdom and the courage to live again.)
---“I don’t understand!
That makes no sense to me!”
(If you run away, I’ll return. You’ll never find peace.)
---“I’ll be fine if I can just forget.”
(How will you move on? You
haven’t faced me yet.)
---“But what will happen to me if I do?”
(Trust and try…what is there to lose?)
I turned and beheld eyes just like mine,
then behind them, still deeper, backwards through time.
I saw my then-self… relived each moment, felt the pain.
Overwhelmed by grief, my tears flowed like rain.
They shattered the skillful façade that I wore.
Stripped of my disguise, I stood battered and sore.
The flashbacks continued, relentless as a tide,
that chisels the rocks along a seaside.
Wave upon wave swelled then crashed with great force.
I waited (how long?) until the flood ran its course.
Out of the recesses of a silence profound,
emerged a steadily strengthening sound…
The voice of my True Self
rejoicing at last--
freed now from the
shackles of my past.
A victim no longer. I’ve
survived! I am here!
Never again will I live in fear!
I now can say that I know,
confronting past wounds is how we grow.
Becoming whole is one
of the goals of life.
With courage from beyond
I’ve found freedom and light.
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Tapestry
Each word and deed is an embroidery thread,
each intent a different hue.
Every day we create new patterns,
by what we say and do.
Life, itself, is like a bolt of cloth
given to us all.
We weave upon it new images
from sunrise to nightfall.
Take a look, if you will, at your tapestry.
Do you like what it reflects to you?
If not, take heart…
at any time
you may design something new.
Doorways
Choices are merely doorways
along the corridors of our years.
We enter or pass them by based on
our beliefs, our goals, or fears.
At times it can be tempting
to follow with the crowd,
for when we walk our own path
we may seem strange or proud.
Still, choosing our own doorways
is the best route to take,
for no one else can choose for us
the choices we must make.
Choose wisely and choose well
when you come to a new door,
for each one could change your life
in ways you’ve never dreamed before.
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It Will Pass
Everyone faces trouble,
but only for a time.
Things will get better
after awhile, you’ll find.
Regardless how deep
your valley may be,
you’ll find the summit--
eventually.
Cling fast to hope,
no matter how frail.
Survive with endurance
and you’ll never fail.
Take a step at a time,
such trials never last.
Keep your face to the horizon
and this, too, shall pass.
Wind Dancers
Silently, I watch
the falling leaves
drifting slowly
down through the trees.
Mosaics of red, brown,
gold and green
carpet the Earth
all around me.
A singing wind asks
the leaves to dance.
With unchoreographed grace
they swirl and prance,
until motionless---
coming to rest, at last
gently upon Autumn’s
faded grass.
Act One thus complete,
the dancers await their cue
brightly arrayed in
burnished hue.
The rapid crescendo
of a whistling breeze…
brisk downward pirouettes
executed with ease.
Time passes and I remember
that I cannot stay.
Ruefully, I rise
to walk away.
Unaware of my departure,
the wind dancers dance on,
as if they know that in weeks,
they, too, will be gone.
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