Bear the ills of weary world,
Know the creep of quiet rage,
Feel the smudge of youth to old,
And smooth the grain of age.
Carry high past ways of youth,
Raise smile-worn weathered flag,
To shoulderhold the uncouth gale,
And navigate the rocky crags.
Know well this turn of time -
Hold each minute like a tiny jewel.
Begin again the spring and wind,
Then win prize of age’s tired duel.
Our joy awoke
and drank
the world in one.
Shared the air
with lungs like
unfurling wings,
sending heartbeat
cries around
the world.
Nestled and rolled,
curling like paper
handmade
by caring souls.
But strong,
like a wild foal
already tall
in utterance
of love.
(For Jared Daniel).
Let us talk
about the stars,
and where we fit within
the vista of being.
In which, we go naked -
skinnydipping existance
diving deep
for miraged pearls
in the sea
of who we are.
Let us close our eyes
and dream
of other things,
of happenstance beyond
the dull thud,
the daily numb
of common ways.
Let us meditate
on awakening.
Let us reel-in
the swirling cosmos,
hold its beauty
like snowdust
in our hands,
raise the soma
of life itself
to our lips,
and whisper.
Let us …
understand.