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There are High Days

When you finaly

Find your treasure.

Then…

There are the Holy Days

When your treasure

Finds you.

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Incarnates

◊

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.

◊

Mute Thoughts

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

Chasing the Equatorial Horizon

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

Slow Down

◊

Perfection

is a goal

Mistakes

become the

Journey

◊

Pale

Θ

Perfection

as sterility

can not sustain life

Though

sorrow

would protest

θ

Changing Compass

≠

It seems to me that

when one is lost

All directions

lead toward the Wrong Way

Burdened with aimlessness

An individual may find comfort

in their present location

Hanging the ‘Home sweet Home’ sign

Yet

When over the horizon one can see

A destination,

Do All directions then lead

To that goal

≡

 

Treeline

Θ

On the Path

the trail ends

no more steps

On the Mountain

−

Trekking up the Mountain

my mountain

The Path will eventually end

my path

The time comes

my time

To carve new steps

my steps

Or

End all progression

my end

Stand still treelike

my stillness

Cast a shadow down the Mountain

my shadow

Hiding the paths of the journey

my hiding

from the Sun

−

It’s the Treeline

It’s why so many Great Mountains

Are bare at the Summit

Θ