Born of This

On Mogul

It is tiresome
being human
with a beating heart.

I wish to close my eyes to horror,
yet my soul was made to speak.

I shout atrocity from rooftops
with rusted gutters,
my jawbone clenched tight.

Hoping that the blind shall see,
and the deaf shall hear;
dead-men nod to my supplications.

The sky quivers and quakes,
roaring untold stories of ancestors.

Nature does not judge.

Instinct is the root
of coming
into becoming whole.

Oh, such peace
to be among the birds and trees,
the grass, green.

The deer and raven dine side by side.

I shall recharge like Walden,
gain clarity,
go home where I feel peace.

The human race confuses me,
and I am often ashamed to admit
that I am born of it.

This Is How We Are Blessed

On Mogul 

Selfless and passionate
birds cry,  melodic.

Rivers and lakes
streams and oceans,
the great majestic seas
roil like thunder,
yet rest our weary souls
onshore.

This is how we are blessed.

The trunks of trees bear limbs
reaching down and out
from heavens sweaty brow,
holding our hands
made of elm and birch,
of oak and fir,
thunderous heads of hair,
crowns of chakras, all colors,
falling, falling as leaves,
blanketing grass, emerald and awake,
blinding our senses silly –

And this, this is how we are blessed.

Listen -
the human heart beats
like tribal drums,
circled by ancestral fires,
pounding treble and bass,
prodding the spirit onward,
towards destiny,
towards fate,
towards the next step -
forward.

In this mad world,
this great globe,
this utterly insane
human existence,
is beauty.

Yes.

This, this is how we are blessed.

Mother Nature, Father Sky

Mother Nature, Father Sky

Check out this wild lightning! I stood out here staring up wondrous and in awe at the sky. Now this, this is Mother Nature, Father Sky.

Also linked HERE