Facing Forward, Pursuing Progress
His soul hides
Deep within old leather covers
Safe upon the shelf
Sometimes pulled down
Blowing dust free
Forgotten poems read
In the fading light
Of dusk
Seattle’s winter taught me something new: deserts hate me. In the deepest cold of February, as the upper left coast shivered in a frigid, deeply embrace, my skin burned. Cracking, peeling, bleeding, the lack of moisture in the air brutalized me. Far more painful that I remember.
Over the years I dreamt of journeys through the Southwest. Wandering the desert canyons, a soundtrack featuring R. Carlos Nakai, perhaps tied to a writer’s retreat, I explore the zen within the arid land. Tranquility filling my soul.
Now I fear my skin crumbling off my bones. Needing to bathe in moisturizer. Not the most pleasant imagery.
Perhaps my mind exaggerates. It often plays such tricks on me. The dream still lingers. No harm, I guess, in holding that. Maybe the tranquility compensates for the damaged skin.
Such randomness within in my mind.
Unfamiliar with R. Carlos Nakai’s music? His native flute music carries me deep within, speaking to my depths.
I reject the paradigm of rage
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p style=”font-family:"”>Replacing that with kindness
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p style=”font-family:"”>Seeking all the world’s beauty
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p style=”font-family:"”>Then magnify it all
The louder you shout
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p style=”font-family:"”>Boldly proclaimed
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p style=”font-family:"”>”Generosity”
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p style=”font-family:"”>The more clearly I see the
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p style=”font-family:"”>Deception within your heart
Lacking compassion
Says so much more about you
Than any words can
My mind is racing
Thoughts I do not want to think
I’m deeply weary
At the week’s middle
My alarm’s song is calling
I love the snooze bar
<
p style=”font-family:"”>Am I more broken?
<
p style=”font-family:"”>How does one compare such things?
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p style=”font-family:"”>I can hear the rain
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p style=”font-family:"”>
My mind is weary
I find it hard to focus
Nighttime is calling
