by Carlos Rull

March 21, 1983
 
 

Firebirds soar,
toward heaven's gate,
amidst the clouds,
in a land so far.

Firebirds glide,
in fields of clouds,
amongst the shadows,
of Mother Earth.

_____________

Evening dusk,
mountain shadows,
temple gardens,
dew in forests.

Lighted candles,
burning incense,
desert shrines,
evening forest.

Trails of smoke rise high into
the jewel of an eastern sky.

 ____________
 

Winds dancing,
sweeping,  flowing,
'round mountains
of the sacred.

Distant chants,
a sacred hymn,
a silent prayer,
all is still.

Dawn meets morning mist,
and trails of smoke rise high into
the jewel of an eastern sky.

____________
 

In the quiet night,
dark upon darkness,
young doves searching for
a warm place to hide from
the torment of the winds.

Winds slice the air and
its coldness forces one to cringe,
nevertheless one presses onward
struggling through the battles
of Mother Earth.

Life seems cold and desolate,
the seeking of warmth and comfort,
like an island somewhere in the ocean,
or an oasis beyond the desert dunes.

We learn
from the winds at night,
adapting to these whirling gales.

At times unable to adapt,
we lay along the wayside,
mangled and broken,
crushed by the sheer force
of our adversaries.

 ______________________
 

A valley spirit dwells,
in the solitude of the forest,
as trees sway to and fro
in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

A quiet forest shelter,
with shades of coolness from the sun,
meadows of pleasant grass grown wild,
waves of grass caressed by winds.

Sunset creeps onto the land,
casting its shadow onto the trees of the forest,
and the winds once again whirl their way
through and around forests and meadows.

A silvery moon casts a shadowy light,
it glows in a late afternoon sky,
as dusk sets in to meet the coming
night,  thus all is of Mother Earth.

 __________________
 

So we toil,
and wallow
in the sea of life,
stumbling, on the obstacles of our lives,
but somehow getting up again
to continue on our way.

And seasons pass,
never knowing what to expect,
our joys passing like driftwood out to sea,
or adrift on a river where nothing's the same.

Like the river, life flows,
as we too must flow onward
as this sea of humanity carries
the flame.

We ignore our destiny,
and wander around until we realize
that we can not turn back time's hands.

Or can we embrace our destiny?
And seek advice from our own passing,
and do what must be done
with whatever time remains.

And seconds pass,
uncertain if we'll be remembered,
our sorrows unfold like a flower,
that wilts in the hot afternoon sun.

And nothing ever stays the same,
like the river it must flow on and on,
and we too must pass onward
into the great void.

And we learn,
perhaps finding a meaning to life,
through our struggles and triumphs,
through this long,  arduous journey.

Yet from experience,
the knowledge gathered
will stay with us
throughout our days,

and having made the effort to learn,
and having embraced the gift of life,
we will conquer our destiny,
and triumph in the light of glory.
 

 © 1983 Carlos Rull