142

 

Those elusive places to free your mind

Dance on the margins of the pages

Like living memories we leave behind

So wistful sweet, hallowed and ageless

 

Are here by the lake, woven in time

In the waters and moonlight sages

These harbors of nature, these masters of rhyme

So wistful sweet, hallowed and ageless

050

 

We are one among many, not one above all

No masters of all things audacious and small

 

Yet we flatter ourselves we of clever design

So processed and packaged, polished and primed

 

But under the trees lies the roots of true worth

Steeped in her wisdom, bound deep to the earth

054

204

 

Paint me a picture, weathered and wise

Today not tomorrow, leave the disguise

 

It’s not hard to see faces, worn and weary cases

Drifting between raindrops and the silence between spaces

 

So paint me a picture, as tall as the moon

Show us some wisdom, say now never soon

 

270

042

 

He loved the woods.

Far away from the cubicle, that multi-walled conformity machine, marooned within the lower decks of the information factory, the quiet of the woods beckoned the task at hand.

The green and blue embrace of the day helped purge the frenzy of digital decay.

It won’t be long before our brains are forever wired to the internet, he thought.  There will be no escape.  Close your eyes and all you’ll be permitted to see and imagine will be online shopping, slaves to the selfish bourgeois.

It will be the law.

But not in the woods.  Here in the woods it was different.  There were no traffic jams in the woods.  No crowded subways full of people casting zombie gazes, staring holes through each other like they didn’t exist.  No suits, no ties, no shiny abyss.

Just the company of simple things.

The sun was hot but felt good on his face, as the warm breeze waltzed its way through the fragrant evergreens, back and forth, back and forth, against a kind of blue only Myles Davis dared describe.

With ancient stones still aglow in the daylight descending, it was time to transcend into the sacred transcending.  Blue gently turned to black as he lit the fire and breathed the night air.  And sitting in the calm of the moment, he surrendered to the woods, and the woods answered him in kind, granting those elusive gifts, self-awareness and peace of mind.

We should all love the woods.

 

103

237

 

Of silent moments and sacred places

Where nature paints between the spaces

Her giving light of solemn graces

These silent moments and sacred places

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