Michaelw1two

I Understand

One life’s proof, that it exists,
basks purely in the thoughts;
that breath, and love, and happiness,
evolve from the realizations,
that an individual truly, and completely 'understands’;
that the perceptual universe, of one’s mind,
is more vast than even the proven depths of all time;
that within the cosmos, of the one true heart,
rests the resource, which enshrouds the ends of life…
 
Within this 'understanding’ lays,
the truth for all who seek;
this awe, this light, this shining beacon,
brightly glowing through each night;
an eternal flame of loving breath,
without the bind of living’s mystery;
it can be seen by those in dream,
who retain their childhood’s sight...
thus spoken so, by one who knows,
of the truth hidden in the all of this;
this dream, of mind alone in thought,
mired in life’s grief’s, and not in wonderment...
in the purity, of this supreme of gifts,
thoughts thus tune, one’s supernal mind;
through the vibrant sequence, of this living fire,
wound around the eye, which deeply sleeps,
inside the dreaming of time’s portend...
to awaken, from living’s dreaming time,
alone and darkened, by a lifetime’s reality;
exposes innocence, as that dirty fantasy,
embroiled in self want, and adverse thoughts;
ignorant to self happiness, and love’s wide community,
void, of that inner smile of youth,
and full of wanton vanity, and self conceit,
unable to fully reach out and touch,
the offerings, of complete friendship and peace…
why then suffer through this sleep,
and wallow in the dreaming of that world’s kind;
where life, is just, and living harmony,
with each and every life and loving soul,
in tune, and in touch, and in word,
and in mind, aware and polite
and responsive, to the better parts
of community, and of heart and soul...
'understanding’, is then this sought for key,
within the mindset of each and every being;
who trusts, the truth in the wish
to hold this in one’s hand;
to reach out, and enter it into that lock and turn,
to have it open wide the truth,
that each of US are innocent at birth...
so, with this worldly birth so comes,
the mar of unseemliness and scorn;
exhibited by the very best of US,
against the lives, loves and relationships,
gifted into our lives
by universal providence and more…
to each, and every one of birth
so blessed upon this earth;
this curse, the scourge, this hate
that suffers each to mourn and broil;
in personal realizations, borne within
the very essence of our lowly consciousness…
of how desperate we have become
upon this day and time,
how to awake and arise above
this fuming and maddening mist,
self questioning the purpose
of one’s thoughts and gist
at each, and every solemn trial
which affronts one’s daily path;
coming down, upon the soul
to break down trust and happiness…
why must each experience,
the very worst of life this way,
breath without the soothe of love,
and like twisted by the fray;
of wantonness, and callousness,
and abrasiveness, all on parade;
this mob, this mentality, this anguish
now experienced by all each day…
the all of US, alone in individual thoughts
that prey, upon the silent fury
kept inside the mind these sad, and longing days;
in chance of talk, in life’s discourse
with friend or foe displayed;
a meeting of these thoughts and words,
not minced, and far from wistful play
in conscience, and of consciousness in kind;
the realization of our similarities,
two thinking minds so far apart, yet
in facts yield, the thoughts that bind;
the truly real idea, that it is wickedness,
and evil excesses, that rule the ways
of each and every one of US, as we rue
the thought of weariness,
and how to end this fray…
as humans do, so must be done,
to humans new at thinking’s mysterious display;
through thoughtful minds and works
of words, that bring simplicity to this world;
with smiles, in heart and on face,
with gentle tugs and playful twirls,
encircle lives with congenial sighs,
and champion friendships
as the promise here foretold;
bring on, and out, the humanity of each
in words, elicit kinship and further kindness;
be one to relight the blind, to voice the mute,
to steady the hands, to guide the minds;
of all who reach out to you, for fellowship,
and the chance of sharing in your gifting muse…
fore through each day that passes time,
comes a second chance to mend one’s ways;
silently upon the sweetest breeze,
in quiet repose, and in an instant known;
the quickening, of that mute response,
the realization, in the brightening of your eyes;
that in thought, you are truly heard
by friends, by family, by providence;
in heart, and soul, and body, and in that trust
for these your will did wait…
and in that gasp of wonderment,
your psyche empties of all your crimes;
returning the innocent empty you,
to the source of all truths,
and to your loving home above and beyond
the grime of life, and far out
into the mystery of time, releasing
your doubt and self ignorance,
and allowing the end of your brutal suffering…
to wit, comes an answers shrilling call,
to relieve life’s thoughts, one’s mind must be calmed;
releasing the self, from that dirge of languid droll,
which drips so thickly, from the shadows sneering lips...
in questioning so the conscious themes,
now so vivid in this awakened mind;
a light it seems, is clearly seen,
and it is as tasty as the most sought for wine...
that bottle’s cork, once completely pulled,
may never capture again the contents scent;
and as surely as that fluids aroma will fly,
its life, and therefore its passion, is completely spent...
so thought as wine, lives sweetly short,
and meaning casts its guild upon words whim;
to he, and she, and they, and them,
in a moment, all understanding lived and lost;
simply because a sullied mind, chose not to think...
replies thus come, from such a mind, composed
of lowly Id, and so juxtaposed to hate;
exhibiting strife, as one’s parley knife,
one’s shade of shadowy gray, as gist of fellowship…
and strange to this, is truth so stood,
beside the portals shadow, and before the eye of awe;
at waist’s apron, one’s brow is hung,
bowing lower towards the hand, to which all shall feed;
so still, those flickering shadows lined behind,
one knelt on knee, with extended hand to none;
the touch on shoulder, of the blade that bleeds
the blood of life, and death now brewed…
oust now the evolution, in the king of man,
who stood head bowed, below the ‘southern cross’;
upon high night, the light of that dreaming dawns,
the sea’s cool fog, a mist that mints life’s time;
to this very day that thought of breathing in the stars,
living’s root returned to home, as death’s dust so rests;
beneath that tree, oh magnolias blossom scent,
it’s petals, surrounding the seed,
that truth and understanding represents…
one child, alone and lost entirely to the clan of men,
hope’s bleak and last of chance before the tides to come;
life grieves such, the soul so quiet becalms,
all memories, of and till each mind resolved;
again to tread those paths so trode,
as individuals, and again as spirit’s soul;
to come as force before the doors now closed,
placed hand onto the lock, and turn the key;
unloosened such, the ends as they may be,
just ends, as thoughts hidden in minds deep…
bright is line drawn, as blade quickly from the sheath,
fore to this frantic fray the least, will to lead the best;
against those who yet feel the need, to fete the beast,
who fail to yield their lowly fates, to truth’s justice,
and to the edge of end time’s swinging sword;
trust won, on this day secured as deed is done,
the final fellowship of clasping hand and eyes of one;
kindness reigns, not brutal circumstance,
future’s view a spring wine’s sweet,
and not that hidden spear…
and on truth’s future vows so lay,
thoughts parted, from the unwilling souls of men;
now chilled, into the vein of stone which follows loneliness,
stooped, with eyes to hands and weeping ideas of death;
the quiet, a terror so ringing loud within the ears,
of one once so alive, and full of strength and kind,
crushed beneath the lies, and slurring moans of what if…
understanding, now becomes that well lit lane,
where each step is vibrant, and full of living’s joy;
a place of fruitful walks, and the future cleared,
of all heavy steps and the shuffling crowds despair;
the path, one now of vivid dreams and cheerful smiles,
leads into the days now spent together, in thoughtful ides,
sharing this moments blessings as the foaling mare
to the spring’s first colt, laying upon the pasture’s green;
imagining thus, the longer days of life so blessed,
against the past and the scars, of a lifetime’s lingering;
all gone, away and at last lost forever to the future’s day…
In this moment then, the consciousness
of what understanding was truly meant to mean,
becomes the smile upon each lifting face,
and seen in the eyes, all now the colours of bright skies,
shows truth, and in heart, and of mindful soul,
each individual, each one of US
turns towards the sun and breathes in deep
the knowledge, gained within the works of words we read.
 
Michael Darrell Walker

(2010)

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