From this day forward
the landscape unknown –
no map, no signpost,
no tradition repeats;
Earth herself a carapace
shaken and shed
by inner truth
into the embrace
of the stars.
From this day forward
the landscape unknown –
no map, no signpost,
no tradition repeats;
Earth herself a carapace
shaken and shed
by inner truth
into the embrace
of the stars.
The lion in me waits
hungry for unseen light,
gnawing on the hollow bone
of dreams, gathering strength
from a river beneath the earth.
The warranty said limited life
but it is summer,
my daughters are here
with their own children
and I’m still alive, rising
with the sun like vapor
from dew soaked grass;
the ancient river always new
descends to an unseen ocean
as I gather and hold these days,
born again with the soft voice
of a three year old, crossing
the porch in her shiny red boots
to say good morning.
Winds gust from the south
pushing the flood tide
into gravel reaches,
soaking the stone feet
of an ancient rock wall
with images carved
by all that’s gone before,
vigilant in what is yet to come
and from this place between
past writ and future dream
I call to you, joining us
across the great distance
with all the desire of rock and sea
to be alive in just this moment.