I don’t wear my pocket watch anymore
it reminds me of my age, 73, soon more,
outdated gadget, time hanging where
moving parts below don’t belong nor work anymore.
I don’t like to think about endings.
Age is a Cracker Jack box with no face, modern speed dial,
no toy inside, when it stops, no salute, just pops.
Lesson: “What young men want to do all night takes older men all night to do.”
Do you know
What you have
You have showed
What is possible
With a unity
That seperate us
Disappear and melt
In the vastness
Of the star-filled
All dissolve when challenged
Existentially with the vastness
We are awed
At the immensity
And our lives
On this small
Blue planet pales
And we become like
At the starry sky
At night in wonder.
It was one small
Step for man Neil,
But do we need
To travel to space
To achieve a
Unity of human
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My three-year-old son
asked me where deer sleep.
So I took him there. Stepping
into a space that is not meant
for fathers and sons, we found
a ritual that has nothing to do
with us. An original grace. A serenity
that evokes the burden of redemption.
That place where deer sleep, under a
plumbeous sky, the pods of grass bent
toward the center of the earth. Otherworldy
crop circles and a feeling of trespassing.
For me if not for him. A child cannot connect
with the mystery without stepping on it.
Sounds blaring loud as in pretence,
Sounds soft as muttered oath ,
Coaxed into a coil tense !
For us who’ve had enough of both
Breath lithe and bone dense ,
Someone coined Silence.
The message I’m getting is far from here
it travels in a line of constant despair.
a hungry child stares at his unfilled hands
his mother cries at the emptiness in his soul.
a shattered dream walks in solemn grief
as the father mourns by his son’s plywood coffin.
a daughter tries so hard to learn the motion
of walking on crutches and a leg to support.
the other learns not to look into a mirror
and cry at the melted flesh from war’s revenge.
they will not forget the aimless shells and bombs
that carried their lives into a den of lost tears.
but the victors will remember only the swagger,
of those who are spoiled by the bounties of wars.
at some point in time the line of despair
will finally reach into everywhere.