Calm in collecting my thoughts, There is no quiet matching that of a poet in the woods. Less his mind speak in arrangement. Here, each tree gives it's life to the land, leaves scatter the ground as a blanket would in colors of brown grey & olive. With feeling hardly stirred it is like a breaths subtle intake. I wonder, Is this seeking of reclusion just to find resonance? I look down & see old aims & goals tatter a mind. Life has shown me many things, may it never show me to be dull. As I relax in the shade of the idea to be a cosmonaut sent to ease the world-weary. Truth be told I don't know. With half a tear I think that one could find a home here amongst the oak & ash trees. Although in these days it's my acceptance that you must keep a balance between either or, in & out of establishment and nature, and it is such how the spirit moves. Form to formless, Uniformed to untied.
It grows darker amongst these creatures of wooden stature. But I wanted to write. Blessed be the soul with endurance to brave itself out. I see a long pathway ahead that will pass in an eyes blink. May the moments produce wealth for myself, my friends, and all spheres of life.
Written in Service,
Matt Earley
The pelting drops hang upon torrents
While rooftops deflect the running waters
We keep our hands folded in prayer
Drifting through these layers of storms
Our focus has gifted us wings to ride the storm;
Ascend clouds to collide with the widening sky
Finally to merge, like a cloud letting down rain
For earth to soak and swim
Sun to scoop and precipitate
The puddles dry, evaporating towards the sky
So we find freedom
Being one with the cycles of change
No comments:
Post a Comment