Faithful Fabric

Oh, my poor soul.

It is always preparing for,
longing for,
the happiness for which it was woven.

Those moments between blocks,
between clocks, between the toil
of what seems the impossible task
of securing our false securities.

Even when captured, serenity, we
balk in her presence. For that clamor
we escape is greedy indeed, pulling at
our time and attention, seeking to
destroy the seeds of peace within
our fabricated storms.

The world, it seems, has little patience
for those who tire of its antics.

My essence, my spirit, should abandon
ship! What faith it is imbued with to remain
aboard this vessel; bending its being to cater to.
What strength needed to stay, tattered and
torn, retaining its patient form.

Though I hear its cries.

I hear them in those times-between-times.
As the day turns itself inside out,
as the lighting of my mind reflects nature-
sun setting, both sides of the coin overlapped.

On the precipice of each mini-oblivion that
punctuates even my prime, the same soft
sentiment echoes from within. Glancing
whispers from that radiant servant indentured
to the paltry needs of the physical and forced:

“Why are you so far from saving me?”

The Breeze Will Stop To Listen

We are far worse than we ever dared to believe; each filled to the brim with corruption and hypocrisy, especially on stages we construct and call divine.

We are loved more than we ever dared to believe; pause to look out the window and past your eyes, pause at the branch of the tree delicately kissing the sky.

What is so similar a portrait to our soul yet nothing alike? What possesses beauty more transcendent than the reaches of our pride?

While I search for the answer, for an analogy so complete as to map out the
constellations of our cells, there remains a grounded fact upon which I dwell:

I don’t have room.

There is an inverse relationship to the amount of love I carry for my neighbor, and the amount of love I carry for the whole world wide.

I find myself unable to maneuver the intimate hallways of my life without shutting out humanity and all its strife.

I find myself unable to call upon ideals transcendent without giving up the patience and care upon which my intimate relationships are dependent.

There is an other to this puzzle. There is a solution without. There is a bridge between my fertile comprehension and my permeating doubt.

I suppose this is why the notion of faith makes me want for nothing except to step outside. To listen to what dialogue I can between the branches and the sky.

Oscillate

I am the beggar
I am the king
I tie up the noose
From which I swing

I am the meek
I am the whore
Provisioned beyond need
Grovelling for more

I reach out humbled
I wall up with pride
Necessarily naked
Attempting to hide

I praise my God
I curse my soul
Floored by grace
Ignoring my role

Quietly feeling entitled
Crying out in despair
My actions serrated edges
Cutting bonds and bones beyond repair

Where am I going?

Come deepest thoughts
And deepest falls
Let it all mix in

Our blood bears both
True saints’ patience and sinners’ sin

Flipped Iceberg

Have you ever seen a flipped iceberg?
I haven’t
But I hear they are
Beautiful

Like out of this world beautiful
Possessing flames dormant
As lost lovers’ souls
Till found love rekindles
Bringing knowledge of Truth
To the surface again, and
For the first time

Sure I’ve seen pictures
Can they compare?
I think if I were to rest
My hand upon the luminous body
Of such a splendor, the Google Images
Would spontaneously explode, crying
“We’ve been found out!
The gig is up, he knows.”

The majesty
I imagine a flipped iceberg
Possessing curiously outweighs my
Trust in everything else
Transcending

I can’t rely upon the words of
Others or the construction and
Operation of devices designed to
Capture and transmit images to my
Eyes as worthy enough vessels to
Accurately portray every shade and
Hue of Truth

A photograph; evidence presented
Points only to lesser things
Yet still communicates promise
Of what the true subject brings

Yet who am I to demand proof
Of such transcendent awe
I am a child, trying to collect
The shattered pieces of a dream
I never saw

Flipped Icebergs
I trust their elegance to exist
In fact I’m certain of it
Implicit trust

Though I’d rather believe
I’ve still yet to truly see
Than place their worth in rust

Distended Herd

Left unto my own devices
I devour till my demise

I envy nature so decisive
Choosing what lives and dies

The earth doesn’t grieve
For the young lost beast

As it is made the lion’s feast

Oh, how desperately I cling
To my emaciated faults

An Afternoon Appointment at the Park

Five minutes late.

It’s funny how that length of time
Can make all the difference,
Or mean nothing at all.

One thing is certain,
It provides for the most stymieing of headaches
When placed directly after the point
Of agreed-

HOLY SHIT A SQUIRREL

Well that didn’t go as planned.

Damn trees.

But wait, could that be?
Ah yes, he has finally arrived!
I shall sprint directly at him,
Best to not keep him waiting.
Expediency is always appreciated.

He smells put together.
I’m glad he brought his human along.

They always seem to need each others company.

C’mon, Jar Jar Binks right?
Binks? Binks it is.
Call me Duke.

By the way, YOU’RE IT!

You seem fast, but can you keep up with me?
Yeah I know I smelled that too.
Wait, over here you can see this tree!
Fascinating isn’t it?
It is here every time I come,
And this one too!

The exact same place. Every time.
Awesome stuff.
How kind of the trees to let us
Pee on them. Every day.

What a thing, trees.

Huh? Yeah I know they seem to like each other.
I’m happy you brought your human too,
Its healthy for them I think.
They seem too content with their metal boxes.

You can’t pee on boxes.
Or at least they heavily frown upon it.

So, Binks, have you ever-
THE SQUIRREL AGAIN, QUICK!

Dammit Binks. We almost had that one.
Have you ever caught one?

Yeah I don’t know what happens either.

But the run is always worth it right?
Always.

Wait, hear them calling?
Let’s go tell them about the trees!
Maybe they will listen this time
And come pee on the trees too.

Or at least notice them.

Yes, yes I understand, time to leave.
It was a pleasure to sniff you,
To run with you,
To revel in our exuberance together.

We will catch that squirrel next time,
I have no doubt.
We can discover what that will mean for us,
Catching a squirrel.

Maybe it will be like the trees.
Maybe even cooler.

Take care of your human, Binks,
And I will do the same.
One day we will convince them
To come pee on the trees,

And stop being so lame.

Simple

Lost

The trees press in from every side

Much more threatening now
Through no fault of their own

Together

My companion and I press on

Snow everywhere, white prism
Though we think we know the way

Water

The water will lead home

A frigid highway rolling down
The mountain towards town

Hope

We track the audible trickle

Through the darkness, moon beams
Bounce off the liquid relief

Collapse

The bank suddenly gave way

The only thing outweighing the screams
Was the inability to act

Return

The only course of action left

One set of tracks lead out
Where two first led in

Simple

Unavoidable truth scarring my heart

Where the embankment crumbled
He had stood, while I had not

On the Nature of Freedom

Who could claim the river captive?

Such horrid strength
Makes quick work of disrespectful vessels
Such providing tides
Overflowing and teeming with life

Endlessly give and endlessly take
The river doesn’t make mistakes

The young boy jumps
In slicing water as the
Water carves
Mountains which house the
River’s borders

Plain for all to see
Within shorelines exists exuberant liberty