Wednesday, May 4, 2016


Published on MOGUL

Image © Mark Golding
Depths unknown
to all that travel my banks,
the lighthearted and weary,
righteous copulations of grace,
bent on knee, in prayer,
simultaneous, divine,
wild, unashamed.

I am, a river.

My waves rush, furious,
raging with disdain,
until the ebb and flow
settle softly,
joining tributaries
to rest precious feet.

Eons have waded
in my cool, jeweled streams,
unabashed, unapologetic.

Step with reverence, dear soul,
pure thirst is endless.

This is,

As thrushes depart,
from throats, parched,
releasing weights trapped
within abdomens and attics
of the windows to the soul.

Great holy supplications,
rise as smoke signals,
above bank lined forests of siltstone
that adorns each side of me,
settling upon cloudbursts
of moss covered rocks
and trunks of trees,
felled in battle.

Thunder, I am.
A Valkyric call to arms,
jolting awake souls,
eyes flutter once,
raindrops assail rooftops,
like arrowheads lain lost,
lulling mouths to speak,
words, deaf to ears.

Climb, dear one,
upon rise of new dawn,
for I am, a mountain.

I am treacherous.
Footholds are unsecured
and gravel is enemy,
yet trust, that I,
hold dear each heart.

The limbs of the arms
of my brothers and sisters,
shall help halfway,
rising from dirt,
with the setting sun,
until the top is conquered,
with soul
bare and sweating,
to all that is, fire,
I am.

My torch, a lighthouse
for the lost and found,
the barely breathing,
the beggar and thief,
the lover and unloved,
the bleeding hearts that suffer
when I rage out of control,
taking with me
all of the hurt
of humanity.

Vesuviant waves of forests,
like man taking man
with bullets, hot,
searing skin,
causing tears
to the bleeding hearts
that suffer
for their sanity.

I fill lungs with life, air.
Eternal conception rests, 
within my soft, sweet breeze
cooling brows,
beneath the unyielding force
of the great eye
of heaven.

I, urgently plodding,
grow in all seasons,
and travel time
that does not exist.
for I am, a root.

Arteries and veins
are pathways,
known only to those
that choose to see
that this world,
is but a photograph,

I am Nature,
dear one,

And in my wildness,
I am free.

And together,
we are


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