inspiration

Fog Lights

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The rift extends over the horizon

and all around me

are shades and shapes

indistinct.

Soft hums

of far-off chimeras

echo in the distance.

The river of asphalt,

completely still

yet winds snake-like.

Pass the torch.

With the flick of a switch,

cast away the mist.

Burn it all off,

scatter the wolves,

the bandits

and the cockroaches.

Every puddle, pothole,

and patch of black-ice

exposed.

Every wayward wanderer,

given fair-warning

of approach.

Come with me,

I will forge

a path.

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Mosaic

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It doesn’t have to be the end

even for a shard

of shattered glass —

that said, it may need to take

some creative liberties.

And rather than

spend all that time

on the mend,

it may behoove you

to mix it up

and create something new.

Even when rediscovering yourself,

there is no guarantee

that what you come across

will be familiar.

There is always room

where you make it,

every last step

brought you here.

In the end,

everything has a funny way

of coming together.

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Disintegration

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Watch closely,

as I fall apart at the seams.

Every crease

giving way,

every fiber of my being

unwound.

For now

I am the dust at your feet,

the gust of wind

that tosses your hair,

the sunlight

on your shoulders —

I am boundless,

the open sky,

the ether.

A crash of lightning

announcing itself one moment,

and gone without a trace

the next.

Listen carefully,

the thunder tells all,

from a roar to a murmur

the sky shutters,

the air reverberates.

Like the rainclouds,

I wander in circles,

I’ll change my shape

and return another day.

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Still Life

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Arranged meticulously,

posed purposefully,

captured faithfully —

life not as it happened,

but a skillful composition.

Sliced pomegranate,

with a few loose jewels nearby,

a vase full of poppies,

wine glasses half full,

a fresh loaf of bread

a steak knife flanking

an empty plate.

We stand on the outside

looking in,

a window to a moment,

forever undisturbed —

not life as it once was,

just an arrangement.

Take this with you,

only in memory,

no flash photography.

Sycamore

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Winds of change,

carry me away,

I will spiral

as I ride the currents,

to still waters,

to green pastures.

The gale will wail,

but I will not falter,

it’s fury will take me

somewhere new,

I have faith.

I will put down roots,

I will stand as tall as I can,

from midsummer,

through first frost

but, here, I cannot stay.

Winds of change,

I will follow your lead,

I fear no obstacle,

you have carried me above them.

Though you have set me down,

I will not rest,

The sun sets in the West,

I will face East,

and take in the morning light,

no matter the hand I’m dealt.

Winds of change,

carry me away,

I wish to see the world,

carry me away.

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Life’s Lemons

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Half-empty,

or half-full,

just remember to drink deeply

and you will feel refreshed

in either case.

Every drop in the bucket,

contributed

to its current state.

A smattering of shattered glass

can lead to

angry wails,

or end with

a beautiful mosaic.

Sit down and do your scales,

I guarantee you

with dedication

you will be able to play more

than “hot-cross buns”

and “Happy Birthday.”

Today is worth it,

not perfect,

because the best way

to find a beautiful view,

is to keep climbing.

When life hands you lemons,

fix yourself a drink,

and add some zest

to everything you do.

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Reflections From the Wind Tunnel

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The abyss looked through me,

and I had no answers for it.

But I couldn’t just walk away,

avert my gaze,

throw my hands up

and call it quits.

“Assert yourself,”

I commanded,

The wind caught my words

as they left my lips,

and sent them somewhere

No one could hear.

There was only so much I could stand,

So I marched again,

and I marched again,

I marched until I was beaten back

to where I started.

The Ravens croaked above

coasting on rising thermals,

and they looked down on me

holding still.

Someday I’ll be airworthy.

Today the abyss looked back at me,

And I’ll look back on the abyss fondly,

For all it taught me.

Wading For It

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Beware of any oasis,

because nowhere in this world of oddities,

will you cross the same river twice.

Try, try, try, as you might,

leaning into the current,

cannot bring you to the past-

grasping for the rain drops,

will not help you

stand steady and weather a storm.

No matter how torn,

you may feel,

there are times you must leave it all behind,

you’ll know it when you see it.

But so be it,

and fear not,

you never have to leave green pastures,

if you can bring them with you,

in tempests and torrents,

deserts, meadows, canyons, summits.

So long as you’re still going,

you are always exactly

where you need to be.

If you’re a fish out of water,

I really hope you’re a mudskipper.

Northern Life

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Lapland has it’s ups and downs,

as static as it might seem.

Friendly people and bitter cold,

a lonely taiga with polar wildlife, plenty of fish to eat,

also the sun sometimes shines through midnight.

You take the bad with the good,

because even the blackest night,

filled with every far-away,

twinkling,

long-dead star,

can erupt with sudden energy.

Swirls of shimmering turquoise,

undulating orange ribbons,

crashing waves of purple,

meet swinging arcs of neon green,

all before disappearing,

like steam blown away from a cup of tea.

Ribbons of light,

electrify,

the air,

while pristine snow,

about your feet,

grounds you,

like white space on a canvas.

You take the good with the bad here,

just so long as you can witness all of it.