Archive for the ‘Dancer’ Category

Wisp of Memory

December 6, 2010

Sun glaring down, barely muted by a pulled down hat. Wisps of hair escape and dance in the breeze off the water.  Sand nearly as bright as the sun, and as hot, yet somehow the heat does not penetrate or bother.

Thousands upon thousands of unfortunate souls lay beached, dying in the light.
Hundreds saved, returned to the cool wet dark by increasingly aching hands.  Each individual salved in the flow until locomotion returned, then turning to aid another, and another.

In the end, only a paltry percent were saved, and still it was a good day. Parched by salt air I have never felt more alive.


A moment of peace

December 4, 2010

Autumn is the time I love,
when grass is tall
and the leaves swift fall
So sweetly sings the mourning dove
as clouds race by
and soft winds sigh
Off our shores the wild geese shove
fleeing all
flitting by
Autumn is the time I love
as clouds race by
and soft winds sigh
So sweetly sings the mourning dove
fleeing all
flitting by
Off our shores the wild geese shove
when grass is tall
and the leaves swift fall

Carried on the night’s breeze…

December 2, 2010

Far Seeker, look at me!
In your eyes this Truth I see:
a restless joy in Life and Love
dancing mirth and swirling doubt
You look at Me and sharing We
Find that we can rise above
all Sorrows that come sniffing about
for, Pack Leader, Truth Seeker
You somehow see the best in me
and also strive eternally
to be the Hand that fits this glove
and puts the Darkness all to rout.

Lost in the Flow, or, Perhaps the Wind

June 18, 2010

Days spin by,
Nights drag on,
forgotten though
Dreams can lie
of days spun on
and on the fly
they too are Gone.

Lost where your path
drifted away
the rocks moved
by floods they say
And yet the swath
cut through that day
grows clearer still
the things we Say
draw them this way–
Lost and Alone
parted in twain
the nestlings flown
a tree in pain
Yet much to gain
in the branches sway
from sorrows known
grows Hope again

Lost in the Flow
of time
of  you and I
Who knows what may grow
in the muck and grime
where Truth may Lie
and Hope Despair
if one may dare
to try and spy
beyond Reason or rhyme
beyond all Time
the lands ebb and flow

Carried on Dreams and breath
the seeds under foot
we find
blooming behind
the layers of sorrow, and soot
and death.
Brought forth by the light
nourished in blight
perhaps the flowers
show beneath
the dreadful fight
even life has its Powers
Against what have the flowers bid
made War and failed
a broken wreath
shattered hearts hid
lying beneath

Yet those who sinned
new paths might make
and hearts might heal
washed clean by the Lady’s Lake
Or Perhaps the Wind

Seeing is Believing

January 28, 2010

The world is what we see, or choose to.
There’s no guarantee we see the same things.

What I call ‘blue’–the color of the sky–could to you appear the color I call green.  But because we agree the color of the sky is to be called blue we can converse as though we do in fact see it the same.

The same sort of agreement pertains to every object and facet of life. Yet still there are misunderstandings.  It is hard, even impossible, to have complete understanding based on countless assumptions.

Yet still we walk together on this world, or at least we seem to.
Perhaps for each of your steps there are two or three of mine, yet all the same we are walking.
Or are we dancing?

Storm Front

December 18, 2009

It’s raining in the Sunshine State, the sky is weeping
The droplets do not wish to wait, the Time ain’t keeping
Itself for any who linger back, fearing leaping
Down off the clouds’ wooly back where they’ve been sleeping

Too long the Sky has held its tears, the Ground was dying
Hidden truths of many years had seemed like lying
Now down the lifeblood streams at last, speeding, flying
Earth and Sky as in the past, together vying

Tumultuous, wild, the joining comes, Flowing Over
With rushing sweeps sounding like drums, they bruise the clover
And all about are overcome as then together
Sky and Ground joining as one


December 9, 2009

This is a post that is indecisive, lonely in its life, lacking companions such as Direction or Inspiration.

It doesn’t know what to do, or how to speak its mind.
It wishes for some path to open up, easily apparent, that it might walk on to find itself. Perhaps someday the path will appear.

…For now, this is still an indecisive, lonely post.