AT DAYS END (2022.08.22) The setting sun creates fire in the sky. Flaming yellow, orange and red. Filling heaven's dome on the westward rim. A quiet slow burning… that if you allow it… will slow down time, transforming burning consumption into transfixed wonderment, as the day is calmly destroyed in brilliant visibly-changing color. Birds fly to their nests creatures burrow in their dens and other resting spaces. And I, heart-harnessed to Phaethon's Chariot as it recedes over the horizon, am humbled by the beauty. My eyelids, growing heavy with the fading light, also find solace and rest. An ending for some. A beginning for others. The chirping of birds gives way to the chirping of crickets and lightning bugs twinkle at twilight in the shadow of darkness like stars on the wing that children can chase and catch with their hands then marvel at the magic within their grasp. Letting go to see the stars take flight. Dreamtime has come again. I wrote this poem while listening to this music and watching the sun set. https://youtu.be/O41y9vuVT3s Best if not played to loud and even better if reading the poem out loud (slowly with a sense of longing and wonder) while the music is playing.
poem
A Good Lie
The Good Lie
I lied to you
and that is true.
I told you something you wanted to believe.
I let you believe something I did not agree with.
You wonder why I’m distant?
I do not wish to give a truth that hurts, room to breathe.
I wanted to give you room to evolve
and grow in your own time. Not my time.
I was taught; ALL lies are bad
and we should ALWAYS tell the truth.
But everybody lies:
lies of omission,
lies of deception,
lies to protect,
lies to self,
lies to manipulate,
lies to harm.
Motive is the key.
I lied to you
and that is true.
because if I told you the truth about ….
You would have been forced to make a judgement
you did not want and were not ready to make.
because if I told you the truth
you would not have acted in the love, grace and mercy
in which you believe.
You would have endangered your own salvation and peace of mind.
And I could not live with that.
A truth never known is love in disguise and
an un-healing wound never inflicted.
I lied to you
and that is that.
Inspired, in part, by the film titled THE FAREWELL (see trailer)https://youtu.be/RofpAjqwMa8
sunday verses #10
(untitled) 1/29/19 1AM … with bigoted clam-shelled-shut heart pinched accusation and fervent digit all gesticulation their unctuous moral fortitude no reverence for creation razes the standard none can achieve happy to fail, happy to fall into the boiling cauldron of righteousness reason lost Who will avail the good, decent, compassionate and forgiving soil? … planting seeds to each grow its own kind fruit bearing and fruitless watered by streams of untethered acceptance. Virtues are best left in deep shadows where they are not exposed to the light of… …haughty self-aggrandizement, bleached by self-promotion or discolored by false humility…. … left in the heavy darkness when eyes close and sound fades to sleep… … perchance to dream.
sunday verses #9
HOLES IN MY CITY (2014)
There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.
Empty spaces are all that remain
where factories made my world.
A dream that never was
cannot be remembered or built upon.
There is no foundation
there is only dust and wind.
Remembrance is only a delusion
sickness of mind and soul
for a community that is trapped
in its struggle to free itself from nothing.
There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.
Places where people lived
where the voices of children could be heard.
Now there is silence
even the ghosts don't linger here.
Some say silence is golden
but the same silence can drive a person mad.
There are holes...
sunday verses #8
PLAYERS SONG (date unknown)
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
the end has come
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across
this sawdust clown
baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town
hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
the naked man
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted
face of a clown
milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace
distant thunder
smoking cigar lifeline
rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
sunday verses #7
11/6-11/16/21 EYE OF THE STORM Dark brooding sadness and anger storm clouds swirl all around me warning and threatening A shadowy pretense of power I see the rain like spit from the heart of those who should know better pummel and drench and flood loosing all the foundations of decency get trampled in the mud I hear the wind roaring out of the mouths of fools nostrils flaring like steeds being driven by demons tearing and stripping away wounding and destroying all that was built but I stand in the calm sun blazing, giving countenance to the peace within me a centered solution to the storm the hardest place to be rage on, rage on o’ storm you will not defeat me I am within you and without you and will remain until you sputter out and dissipate all your venomous energy wasted --------------------------------------------------------- Ephesians 6:13 "Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." Some times just being able to STAND is all you need. https://youtu.be/zWhDbkTmJHA
sunday verses #5
10/27-28/21
ENTER THE EVENING
A shadow crept across early evening.
As I was retrieving the mail
I stopped in my tracks and looked up.
A thousand wings whispered across the autumn sky
in undulating murmurations of velvety simplicity.
None collided with the other but danced a ballet
in perfect synchronicity across heaven.
The tinted hues of sunset;
royal purple and brilliant orange painted
against a dark blueing background.
Even the cricket at my foot that stopped its chirping
and, propped up against my shoe,
seemed to look up in amazement.
A pair of local chipmunks scurried about in the chilled air
foraging for nuts and berries to store for winter -
oblivious to the magic in the sky.
In one step I had travelled
from the reality of a chaotic and stressful day
into a calm, quiet and peaceful evening.
sunday verses #3
UNTITLED 4/24/2021 We are living in the time of parables and revelations choosing sides retributions morality plays we are “everyman” we are the evil that haunts our reality passport economy buy and sell only if you carry the number of the beast innocuous as an inoculation tremors and terrors of the soul as those who are weak from fear strike out and seek control of the courageous their souls listing off the coast of truth drowning in their desperate thrashing and gnashing of teeth marching and clawing up the mountain of victims they create toward heavens inverted hell fear of a zombie apocalypse the walking dead if we look at the soul it’s already here. We consume media we consume ourselves we consume everything humanity’s legacy on earth will be our consumption we’ve lost too much to turn back now in the past our consumption was tempered tempered by “out of stock” “special order” “import only” cash shortage but that has changed online everything is available all the time any time for a price on credit with our very own pay pal we forgot the payback we forgot the shark will come hunting for what is owed the environment culture social religion politics science all will come hunting and haunting enslaving for what they are owed.
sunday verses #2
WE ARE MEDIA (10/02/2021)
Welcome citizen,
WE are Media.
WE are message.
WE are massage.
WE are information masturbation
That you WILL enjoy.
If you do not believe
what WE tell you to believe,
And if you do not act on
what WE tell you to do,
Even though WE show you
only what WE believe you need to know,
Even though WE show you
a heavily redacted, edited, one-sided view,
Even though, when WE do show an alternate view
it is completely ridiculous, unbalanced and unbelievable,
Then, you are a bad citizen.
A bad and corrupt member of society.
Suited only for OUR censorship.
Dear citizen,
You and WE both know that you,
A mere individual,
Are incapable of making an informed decision.
Information is power that WE control for you.
WE simplify the information for you.
You are free only when WE say you are free.
WE have done all the work for you.
You may now bow down and thank US.
You're welcome citizen.
We are Media.
CHAFF IN THE WIND
I remember when Saturday
Felt like Sunday
And I was dreading Monday
Feeling like I’m strung out on junk
(Which I never tried)
I was strung out on life
(Which I couldn’t escape)
And it wasn’t pretty
I hated my life
The world I lived in
Staked to the ground
Face up in some tribal ritual
Eye lids propped open
Waiting for the sun to burn me blind
I just wanted to die
But couldn’t
Feeling rejected
Outcast, judged and ridiculed
Was it done to me?
Or did I do it to myself?
In the back of my mind
In the shadows of
What I remember myself to be
I felt there was another side
I just had to get there
But the road was dark
There was no light to light my way
Shadows loomed large and mean
In my withdrawal
Happy is an illusion
And I wanted to get lost in that illusion
But knowing the magicians secrets
Is it possible to ever enjoy the magic again?
Are these fancy words for a poem,
A memoir or just letters jumbled with meaning
meant to get lost and scattered like
so much chaff in the wind
how should we then live in these troubled times?
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann, 1927
something fishy
I once saw a fish
washed upon the shore.
I stared down as it lay
on its sandy grave
taking its last breath
then stepped away
as the seagulls came
tearing away at the carcass.
And I thought.
This is the best we can hope for –
not to be remembered –
but to provide for whatever comes after us.
Knowing, like the fish,
when to live
and when to die.
The older I get
the less optimistic I feel.
Fantasy is for escape,
reality is for living;
however unpleasant it may be.
1 poem, 1 new artwork, 1 haiku
DISAPPEARING LIGHT
we have become so enthralled
self-absorbed in our own light
when we look up at the night sky
we cease to see the stars
fleeing
from our own manufactured urban brightness
when all we do is watch
we’ve stopped looking
we are trapped by the light of our devices
and all that we see stops us from seeking
Stars have disappeared
City lights prevail at night
Leaves fall from the tree
el camino
*el camino translated to english means “The Way” – more than a vehicle.
EL CAMINO
Out in the wilds
in my rusted 1969 El Camino
pulled off the side of a desert road
the only light
a cigarettes glowing ember end
the stars my only friends
“Buenos Noches From A Lonely Room”
on the radio
quiet like
listening outside to inside conversations
yet here I am alone
staring off into the night at
a glow
far off on the horizon
the site of an alien invasion?
just another boring city
that never sleeps
I decide to NOT “go toward the light”
comfortable under the shadowy blanket of night
resting in my inspired darkness
sitting in the bed of
El Camino
Cocoon
mobius faith · COCOON
I am in a personal, creative, social,
emotional and professional cocoon.
Once a caterpillar,
I thought I understood life.
Now it feels like time has passed me by
and I no longer understand or
recognize the world I live in:
irrelevant, voiceless, useless.
I can’t move.
Wrapped in blankets on a bed.
Cocooned in my cotton chrysalis.
I peer out through fuzzy threads
and see people moving about,
attempts at normalcy.
But, I have no desire.
I am weak and sickly;
left to the shadows of a previous life.
I have neither the will nor the strength.
I’m left to wonder if I will emerge from this cocoon
to a new life,
a new type of existence
or if I will die in my encasement.
Will I be able to break free and
enjoy new life?
A new existence?
Better Health?
Feeling “at one” with the world around me?
Or will this shell become my abattoir
slaughtered in silence.
Perhaps I will emerge an avatar
able to engage, teach, foster and encourage the souls who remain?
“If you live long enough and hang in long enough
the world will learn to love you again” (*)
So, now is the time of waiting
and hanging in there
waiting for the metamorphosis to complete
as I wonder….
Will I be a butterfly or a moth?
Will I dine on the sweet nectar of milkweed?
Will I flit and flutter toward the light of my undoing?
In the end the question is not “how?” but “when?”
Even butterflies can die in their cocoon.
* quote by Toya Willcox in the liner notes to her new boxed set.
ESCAPING ONE’S OWN SHADOW
poem to the world
We Did It Our Way (6/14/2020)
For all those around the world
who have have been sickened and harmed by
America’s bigotry
America’s duplicity
America’s meddling
into your lives, your governments, your countries
this legacy of self-interest
“I don’t think there are any Russians
and there ain’t no Yanks
Just corporate criminals
Playin’ with tanks”
“The child of hatred comes of age…
The sad neglect will surely take its toll…
Violent times”(*)
For all those around the world
who have prayed
prayed in earnest and
prayed continually
“A plague upon America.”
“Death to America!”
or cried out “when will it end?”
God has heard you and
God has answered
I can tell you
with more coronavirus cases
and deaths
than any other country in the world
with social unrest
caused by a pandemic, racism, inconsistent values,
police brutality and failed leadership
I can tell you
that you may feel confident
you did not have to lift a finger
you did not need to attack us
God has heard your prayers
and like the tower of Babel
Our “language” has become confused
like the walls of Jericho
all you had to do was blow your horns
we have come crashing down
the modern Rome is falling
you did not have to lift a finger
you did not need to attack us
let the ruin be a lesson
We did it our way
We did it to ourselves
* 2nd stanza quotes taken from The Call’s eerily prescient album MODERN ROMANS (1983)
“I can’t breathe” (a poem)
“I CAN’T BREATHE!”
The long long night in America
violence, hatred & anger
200+ years overdue if you ask me
and not in the least surprising
“I can’t breathe,” “I can’t breathe!”
The fires of protest burn brightly
and the media focuses on the event
not the root that caused this burning bush to grow
Another black man dies
in police custody
“I can’t breathe,” “I can’t breathe!”
each word like bullets fired from a gun
verbal shots ring out
while 3 cops pin a black man down
one brutally kneeling on the neck
and a 4th stands by complicit
It isn’t enough to suppress the black and brown man
his black and blue soul suffering
under the weight of white oppression
and the poison goes to the very top Mr. President
racism given a badge
There is no honor here
It’s not courage that carries a gun and uses force
only a white coward dresses in blue
and cynically claims
“I’m only doing my job”
when they crush the life
out of a black man already subdued
“I can’t breathe,” “ I can’t breathe”
If we are surprised by the violence
we should be ashamed
If we are shocked by the brutality
we shouldn’t be
If we do nothing
We are complicit
“Please, please, please,
I can’t breathe, please man.”
And another black mans soul
ascends to heaven to early.
“Please, please, please,
I can’t breathe, please man.”
I wrote the above poem in reaction to the brutal killing of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police and the nationwide protests and violence that followed 5/31/2020.
4 essential tracks for this time in America:
The Last Poets – HANDS OFF!
Gil Scott-Heron – HOME IS WHERE THE HATRED IS
The Last Poets – RAIN OF TERROR
War – SLIPPIN’ INTO DARKNESS
Bonus Track – From the film SLAM starring contemporary poet Saul Williams.
3 Good Friday haiku
Winter’s dying gasp
Before Easter’s rising dawn
Good Friday’s snowfall
This morning out my window #2
Snow falls on Friday
A Savior rises Sunday
Spring surprises all
This morning out my window #1
April morning snow
Quiet soft burial melting
to resurrection
It may be Friday – but Sunday’s on the way!
Late Autumn Haiku
Cold, dark, windy night
Trees shudder; dead leaves unchained
Make fierce their escape
3 more haiku on death & dying
Ending transitions
Matter to anti-matter
Life turns into death
********************
Flesh will decay fast
When life is present no more
Bones will decay slow
********************
Circumstance unknown
I know neither time nor place
When death comes for me
3 haiku on lightning
Across the night sky
A visual symphony
Heat lightning flashes
*******
Disturbing the night
Punctuating the darkness
Heat lightning dances
*******
Dark blanket of Night
Heavens dome with light flashes
White doves in dark skies
diamond in the rough
we are diamonds
born of the earth
the diamond does not understand the jeweler
the diamond seeks to defend itself
against the jeweler’s knife
we struggle to hang on
hang on to absolutely everything we can about ourselves
not realizing that every little bit that is cut away
reveals a facet of the inner self
the diamond only sees
a piece gone here
another piece gone there
another hit, another blow from the chisel
piece by piece it sees itself whittled away
and it is afraid
for it cannot yet see it’s shining glory
coastal haiku
gulls flight in the night
coastal lights guiding their slumber
humans haunting sounds
————————————–
seagulls on the prowl
dive-bombing at lunch in hand
McDonald’s french fries
REJOICE! it’s what we do
REJOICE!
Humanity will become
a slave to its creation.
REJOICE!
Just as God became
a slave to humanity.
REJOICE!
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
REJOICE!
I sometimes feel sorry for God.
REJOICE!
Maybe one day our creation will feel sorry for us.
REJOICE! Again, I say REJOICE!
imagination and practical reality
Imagination And Practical Reality
(6/11/19)
Where are the words
that have escaped me?
All I find is an empty wire cage
I hear the fluttering of wings
in the darkened corners of the room
Yet I see nothing clearly
vague inferences and impressions
opaqued shapes
undulating slowly
in a heavy pre-dawn fog
Yet I am happy
And once the sun rises
and the fog is burned away
all will be made clear
Without mystery
Without inspiration
Forgotten worlds
Like the man who looks in a mirror(*)
and when he turns away
immediately forgets what he looks like
Left to wander
groping in the clarity of
the harsh light of day
Lost in the multi-sensory overload
Writing without understanding
the words on the page
And I am sad once more.
* James 1:24
What Happened To My Country? (this messy slam poem)
What Happened To My Country?
(5/2019)
What happened to my country?
I feel like an alien in my own land
where everything old is new again
old arguments
new context
the earth is flat
we never landed on the moon
the return of nazism returns and
white supremacy, nationalism, dictators
abortion rights
suppression of the press
the end of free speech
power of the gun
more walls fewer bridges
tiki torches over electricity
more bombast less wisdom
voter suppression
denial, deny everything
forcing yes by saying no
lie, lie, lie like there’s no tomorrow
the holocaust never happened
domestic terrorism rules the day
a normality of school shootings
armed teachers
corporate kings keep half of America
addicted to opioids
never once asking if they should
they knew they could earn a ton of dough
from the drug trade
so they would
act now apologize later
Is this the death of America or just democracy?
the all-you-can-eat
brimstone and treacle buffet
Every moral notion I’ve EVER had
is being crushed by
the people who taught me
everyone has their religion but no one believes
religion is politicized, weaponized and bastardized
everyone is talking
no one is listening
technology moves forward
while humanity falls
faster backward
Where are the lovers the haters have killed?
we pray for ourselves by cursing others
we pray for our kind and curse differences
as if only we matter
sameness perpetuates division
diversity has become a word
to bring attention to our differences
not the things that unite us
Everyone wants to be Goliath
the bigger the better
determined to change history
but they forgot David won the war
believing they can turn back the clock
moving forward in the delusion of progress
taking a life synonymous with birth
the rights of the living aborted for
the rights of the unborn, the nonhuman,
the corporate, the government, the powerful
the dog serves its master
the worm serves the fish
and the pigs shit everywhere
America, where is your
o, beautiful for spacious skies?
when did the battle hymn of the republic change?
Now we only trample through the vineyard
where we grow our own grapes of wrath
and prepare to loose the lightning
of our own swift sword
beating the drum to war
unnecessarily we forgot the
beauty of the lilies and
Christ irrelevant born
forget about his glory transfiguration
it’s just you and me
(sung) Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
glory, glory hallelujah
only the lie is marching on
America America
God shed his
onward christian soldiers
white privilege freedom thieves
now crown your good
white brotherhood
from sea to shining sea
and Jesus doesn’t love the children
all the children of the world
red and yellow, black and white
white are precious in his sight
that’s not the way the fucking songs go!
Hopefully artificial intelligence
will be ‘cause actual intelligence
seems to be the victim of extinction
let there be peace on earth
and let it begin with
someone else
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
God will not intervene!
even God wouldn’t deny the freewill
that humanity denies each other
God knows no borders
yet the rich and powerful use God
to force crisis borne of political expediency,
build walls and wage wars
Protect the money
grow the money
protect the money
grow the money
say it with me
protect the money, grow the money!
there is no happy ending here
man may have been made in the image of God but
God is still an extra-terrestrial alien creator
killed by its own creation
just as humanity will be killed by technology
the thing it creates
there is no rapture
the second coming came and went
it’s hard to imagine heaven
when all we create is hell
God damned humanity and
only humanity can save itself
I’m sorry if you were hoping for
words of encouragement
words of hope
words of inspiration
this vessel has been emptied and
washed clean
ready for a new beginning
let it begin
let the day begin!
On second thought
I think I’ll leave it empty for awhile
The Players Song
Players Song
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
the end has come
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across
this sawdust clown
baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town
hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
the naked man
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted
face of a clown
milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace
distant thunder smoking
cigar lifeline
rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?
I don’t remember when I wrote this – possibly 2013-2014. But I only recorded it recently.
gun control
desire and fear buy a gun
religion and politics justify it
anger and hate use it
the question remains
have we outlived the right to bear arms?
poem on silence (or lack of)
Silence Reaching (2013)
in the modern era
silence exists
a decision
a punishment
noisy with appeals
recognizes the imperative
goes on speaking anyway
an intention
an expectation
perforated by sound
enriching emptiness
a resonating eloquent silence
je pe deges parmi le solitude*
horizon
discovery
and formulation
never has less advanced itself as
more
soliciting total attention
strenuous modesty
actual debility
cleansed non-interfering vision
certifying the absence
long silences become almost palpable
spiritual nausea
harsh despair
perverse apocalypse
deployed with systematic irony
blood-tide of decadence
the approaching end
post political electronically connected cosmopolis checked by despair
leaves one without
any
breath
at
all
(*translation – I’m a lonely one)
I actually recorded this one. I always think poetry needs to be spoken/read out loud. Enjoy.
White Supremacy?
White Supremacy
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand
Leprous hand
White as snow
You sound like help and look like death
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
your heart is too close to the skin
you cannot see what I see
Your deformity prevents you
from feeling the pain you cause
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
I see the disease you bring
Hidden among your so-called gifts
Your virtues tainted by
The supremacy of your unclean hand
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The diseased heart has spread to the hand
You build your gated communities, armed fortresses
Of wealth, leper colonies, prisons of your own making
Separating you from a whole world of wonder
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
You seek to unify YOUR family
By separating ours… mine
You burn bridges and build walls
Usurper of truth, teller of lies
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The lesions of your thinking
Discolored by the deafening roar of hatred, intolerance & FEAR
I could feel sorry for you
If it were not for the swift kick
Of your Jackboot and the Searing heat of your tiki torch
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The prophesy has foretold
You will starve, you will lose all you had,
You will die by your own white hand
And when there is no more white
Who will be left to dig your grave?
Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand
Leprous hand
White as snow.
haiku’s on fog
O beautiful morn
shrouded and clouded in mist
fogged o’er secret Spring
wake up now dear Spring
shed the blanket of morning
wipe the fog away
Where, oh morn are you?
Where are your budding flowers?
Even birds whisper
... on being and becoming ... 