4-1-2017
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with
Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
I heard past generations In my son’s voice, I saw his life fly Into another dimension, A place, I can only imagine.
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another
Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
Life is like a dream A star studded sky A blink of an eye Oh, how life slips by. Life is like a song
In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people