Poetry

When and What

So many times, trip-trapped by the ice,
Treaded unreasonably thin and broken,
Pierced by the chilly world,
In similarities found folded
Deep within her heart and me.

But at worst in me rests, that
Understood truth of grounded
Caste, through which struggle
May tread, and in exhaustion
Cease to live.

Everyday I head my subtle
Truth, and in some --
Chance a grin, and in sum --
Chance I catch but a thought --
And in peacefulness we waltz.

What in living the truth do hide,
In quiet contentment, my feelings subside.

Anything at All

Three-quarters add up
to reality, and fill that cup
that's overflown and blessed
by the right hand
so we all know
where it's coming from
when the summer sun sets in
and walks hand in hand with the fates
who's decisions mean as much as the dates
that scroll down on us from nature's bough
like streams who should know their way
better than they do.
There is more nothing out there
than you could know
were it not dropped
neatly in place to view
so take the crooked path, or not -
just float above
because there's little you can do
to a rock's historical milieu
or the way a tree greets the morning dew.
Searching for you in a place as big as this
Can often turn up lazy instead.
For the hours you'd spend
would just end up spent
with more left to come.
I won't dare tell if you blink
or sleep when there's no reason to sleep.
It foretells our situation
with natural accuracy -
the secrets that we keep
in infinite simplicity -
the nothing we can touch
if we extend our reach
but they don't ask more of you
than you do fo yourself,
so do you finish less?
In the drought is the answer
of what nothing can do,
yet the little that can oppose
the onslaught of the predestined.
In your glassy daze you seem to face it well
and why not?
Why not accept the fields that bind us
and govern our moves?
The effort evaporated on discorded discourses
helps no one.
So what are you running from?
I wonder what you're afraid of.
Does anyone mind if you just sit down,
and just let your mind simmer down one minute?
They don't, and they never will
until you realize it's all in you,
and all around you is what you want, too.
That noble clandestine sleep
during which all things occur,
but you awake unchanged -
it should tell us something
but it never does
about the importance of this place
and what's to be learned
from this soon eaten slice of summer's harvest moon.
From life we were born
and for life we were raised.
Don't tremble if the branch breaks as you are swept away,
just search for that second
that tells you it's okay.