Water Falls

Splicing in Twaine

Merry loops of golden light

Wrapping around cranial mounds

Crowning kingly forms

Water holds no mercy

Yet veils itself with softness undermining the powers that lie beneath

It takes what falls into it

Those that survive are upheld on the banks as the few that made it through initiation

The only thing that has its foundation as its roof

Its speaks not to anyone

But roaringly commands without question or remorse






One silent breath

Lie still and all will pass

Taking in mountains

These to will pass

Warming suns guided by Father Time

Life returns with sleepy regulation

Birds fly and bees seek their flowers

Making their resolve to make something of themselves.




Giving more

Take from and discard it as nothing

Worship for a moment

Be both … yet be neither

Say it all …yet nothing that means anything

Empty eager to take

Filling upon the breasts of mothers milk

Making a stand for nothing

A line is drawn




The Sea

The Sea was boisterous that day

It welcomed me not

It fiercely blew me from it

I felt dissatisfaction

I sought to complete my desire

But my option was a pathetic relief

I was waiting

Yet I paid no notice of the spirits or Mother Earth

I was not listening that day

I did not welcome you when you came



Blown on the wind

 You are the sea

I was shown the future

 “Mother Earth, I am a babe, for only now am I starting to understand”

I was being screamed at that day

But I was as the deaf

The Earth forewarned

But I was stone









Last eve

I looked upon the city gates

The roof tops glowing with the last rays of the Sun

A horn blew nearby

Calling the people

It said

“Stay in your house, while the guards are away”

I stood at those gates

“Girly best you be off”

Said a gruff and stiff voice

“There is no telling what happens when darkness descends.”

I paused, not keen to listen too swiftly

I wanted to know

What lay beyond the ramparts and stone

Clicking and creaking of chains and wood

Drawing in the bridge

Water cascading from chains

The watchman called to the streets

“All is sound”

For a moment

Quiet was found

Fires lit and kettles filled

The smell of meat and bread

Warm  fires and soups

Stories of the day in fields

Airing of troubles

Planning and mirth and drink

Satisfaction is theirs

Readying the day for more toil than worth

Rest coming swiftly as lights ever dimmed

I looked upon them

Condescension rising in me

Is this all?

I stand firm before the risen bridge

My destiny lying behind it

Come the morn!

I said

“I shall be to the people a shadow of a person that once existed.”

Now, I stand at the gates as they descend

I see green hills slowly unveil themselves and the sun glimmer on distant lakes


I am to live.