◊
Time is in the driver seat
Never pulling over to rest.
Fear is singing comforting songs from childhood
About how everything will be alright.
Apathy is carving up Ambition’s body
Throwing the pieces out the window.
Despair follows in the distance
Sweeping Ambition’s remains off the Road.
◊
Θ
Bright Winter iced lake
Sun warms Eagle above snow
Bluest of cold skies
θ
Ω
The East Rim
Is hung with chains
The West Rim
Is paved with roads
The Canyon between
Has depth beyond Sunlight
To a lake
That burns
For in the East
I can’t
Yet in the West
I won’t
ω
Θ
The Finger
So often used in accusation
Continually sharpened
To needle out the details
Now like a pencil in June
Too short and too dull
With the paint chewed off
Unable to make a point
Not wanting to make a point
Finished making points
Any intellectual profit
In the trash
With the shavings
θ
Ω
How many people have i done things to
How many people have i done things for
How many times have i done nothing
ω
Ξ
Man could wrap his arms around creation
If he bothered to maintain a line
Back to the beginning
Though, in fact,
Our arms are shorter
Than our legs
Since most can’t remember
The ground they touched today
If anyone touched ground at all
ξ
Θ
There must be Gods
For in a world of
Can Nots
There must be
An untouchable
Is
That remains exalted
Beyond the reach of
Condemnation
Able to absolve
Diminished spirits from
Doubt
Imbuing upon those
That persevere
Grace
..
Or
..
I Didn’t throttle
My boss
Today
Does that mean
I can get a
Cookie
θ
Θ
A
Single
Rust colored pine needle
Balancing upright
Upon the marbled slate-blue iced over lake
Framed at the edges in deep glittering snow
Binding Spruce into great flowing columns
Anchoring an embracing domed azure sky
Crested by the blinding-white golden Sun
θ
◊
Mystery romances the lost
Ginning what truth remains
of a seed
long after it germinates
.
Celebrating each revealed truth
As gospel
fresh from the makers lips
.
Until as fire purifies ash
is the acorn found
in the flames of reason
◊
Θ
With each strike of the hammer
The nail plunges deeper into the wood
Each hit concealing more and more
Leaving less and less to see
Until eventually the nail is gone
Pushed entirely beneath the surface
Never to be seen again
No mark or blemish
Where once stood iron
The hallmark of a skilled craftsman
θ
Φ
Pale in Forgiveness
Hemorrhaging Faith
Staining the shadows binding
in Despair
φ
Θ
A thousand years
interned in a dungeon
Through time
i have finally stacked up enough stones
to reach the barred window
Climbing up the pile
i look out
past the bars
upon the outside
for the first time
and have no idea
what i’m looking at
θ
Ω
Walking in a circle
revisiting each step
again and again
Ad infinitum
.
Ending and beginning
in the Chasm
Highpoint of memory
bottomless in despair
.
If if virtue is gold
my soul is poor
each revolution
refilling the pit with debt
.
In it collects the runoff
of apprehension and fear
as a cauldron of doubt
and crucible for folly
.
yet at the edge again
by my choice
i bring myself
wan and bridgeless
.
Though after the crossing
as i emerge and walk yet away
am i really leaving
or beginning the trip back
ω
Θ
The World
was once round
Then Man
Shaved off the edges
Making it square
so it would fit
in his Machine
θ
◙
It begins
the Fall of Night
Darkness embraces life
Saturating the light
Dim violet flames
The Fire Dervish
–
With Burning Heart
–
Tends a garden
of Flame
◙
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In the Court of the White Bear 