A Rare Moment

Do we think

Of wonder, peace?

Of still tranquility?

When thoughts of waiting come to mind

Do we pause

Consider the serenity?

It is rare

For no moment’s left untarnished

By the sullied touch

Of life’s compelling hand.

No moment of calm

Undisturbed by stress

Anxiety

For waiting’s always restless

Always asking more

Never time left for reflection

Never silent

Never still

Few find time

To embrace the moment

To seize the day

To cling to respite

To win the peace.

Once life silent

Once life still

Now life tattered

Now life torn

Now what?

Take the moment

Seize the day

Cling to respite

Win the peace

And maybe

When we think of waiting,

With joy we will look back

As with happy hearts contented

For we have found

What few can claim

For our waiting is not waiting

But awakening.

Mist

Inaudibly, intriguingly, stealthily, the mist slinks out, permeating every crack, infiltrating, unstoppable, unrelenting, then swiftly as it comes, recedes, withdraws, diminishes into nothing.

Subconscience

Withdrawal into self, retreat into sublime feeling, delving into the concepts that alone roam the expanse of my mind. The swirling colors, reds, purples, greens, at constant unrest flow, merge recreate, shaped into indefinite forms, then swept away by the current of another thought, clinging to its memory, grasping to impart one last inspiration, rising, transforming, gazing, taking in the expanse below, the infinitely vast but tremulous realities of the dimensions, then, exhausted, drawn, struggling back to the concreteness of earth.

Mountain Creation

The earth shudders, its maw yawns,

the ridges pleat, and lift me, rise, attain transcendent supremacy.

Boulders wrench themselves from the landscape.

Now running, I dodge the masonry of the earth,

Hang onto ledges, reach the summit.

All

Ceases.

Stillness.

I wonder at the ruined macrocosm,

destroyed, but not desolate.

Soon new life will emerge,

and the earth's cycle, continue.

(this is by me)

Hatchling

Gliding by,

I spot

a small hatchling,

taking

its first

small steps

in this

world.

I wonder

after its infancy

of its life

will it grow

and raise

its own brood,

waddling

their first steps

along this same,

peaceful river,

or

will it join

the cycle of life

while

it is yet young,

sate

the appetite

of a creature seeking prey?

It endeavors

to find

its place

in this world,

before,

unguarded

as it is,

harsh,

cold,

nature

consumes it.

Castle Siege

Twang, whirrr, thud. A hail of arrows rains sdown from the castle walls. As the enemy approaches with their siege towers, catapults, battering rams, the first line of defense, the cavalry, rushes out to stop the war before it begins. Quickly the battering rams are disabled, the siege towers lit. But now the endless wave of trained soldiers falls upon the horsemen, cutting them down in their retreat. They reach the castle gate and are let in before the tides turn and rocks begin falling from the machicolations. Finally, the enemy relents, thwarted by our constant stream of arrows, the destruction of their machines, the obliteration of their forces.