May all gods turn out to be strong and mindful
Merciful and understanding of the ways of humankind
The things I did that hobble me still, the killings
around the world according to today’s news
the lovers betrayed, the followers misled
the carelessness of doing what you got to do
To live free of hate is not easy. To keep at it
is difficult – dare to struggle, dare to win!
Trouble keeps occurring. We get better at see-
ing it coming, limiting the damage, and
quickening the clean up. Getting back
to normal is the new norm now
But that is not enough – we have to get
at the dark heart of humanity and love it
Of all the thoughts racing through my mind in the last five minutes drying myself off after an afternoon shower, I held on to nothing. I’ve no idea what certifications I’ve acquired. We move on and take other peoples’ places. There will come the time when I walk through this door and cannot walk right in as if I live here.
Most of us are just visiting this planet but still some belong here, and don’t go much beyond the earth and air, fire and rain when it’s their turn to die. I remain unsure of my destiny.
The only rush I’m in is to move to Earlysville Forest. My focus is on unpacking all the moved boxes. And once settled, figuring out how to configure the gardens. There is no golden beauty at the top of these steps I trudge in dreams of ancient castle towers, yet I continue.
Where I live on this planet turns away from the sun, rotating me and my fellow citizens into darkness, another night filled with wonder, a little attempt at capturing some worthy meaning. The last angle of light blinds me, so I turn away too, but just for a minute or two.
Soon I’ll be leaving this bit of earth and moving a few hundred miles south. I’ll see what powers I lose, what new ones I might gain.
Meanwhile I sit on the back deck among the gold leaved trees and the bright oranges and red ones among them. In this moment of forever, the neighbor’s dog comes out and barks. It’s looking right at me. I point skyward at the prop-plane passing overhead, my intrusion sucked up by its wing glint of sunlight. The dog goes back around the corner.
Don’t ever leave me alone
Please don’t ignore my words
I won’t leave you
Even if you tell me to
This pact made honorably, foolishly, and habitually
between so many people in all of the tribes
Such love, such confusion
All is wet. The trees splashed in autumn
The sky a milky background adrift
in thirty-five mile an hour wind gusts
Not everywhere – yet certainly around a big area
But the point is that by now even that moment
that singular view is gone. All vows as well
Perhaps. Ah, the great perhaps!
Trees swirl, and colder winds blow in
This is, by all accounts, a magical story. Great riches and greater horrors occur and reoccur. The teller is privy to the games the mind plays. A favorite song of the teller’s, “You Are My Sunshine,” could be hummed at any point in this story, so hold on: C/C7/G/F!
Also. Don’t forget that whole cultures are in the process of change; it could be difficult to hang on to never mind even find what is useful. The teller tells the warriors “Titan up.” To the Quartermasters the teller reminds, “Don’t ignore the Trojans. Be safe!”
What might have happened beyond the obvious to Malcolm Brighton, Pamela Brown, and Rodney Anderson aboard the “Free Life” on that blue-skied September day in 1970 remains a mystery. Their flight to freedom could be part of this magical story.
Hungry brains like Ginkgo bilboa, Bacopa monnieri, huperzine A, and Phosphatidylserine according to a site on the Internet. As for cholesterol, it is the size and number of the particles that is now seen as important to a proper diagnosis.
Like most magical stories can, this one makes things disappear.
Who are we to think we’re so special among all else?
Neither the largest nor the smallest avow such status
We are an interesting species, especially to ourselves
Safe neighborhoods are getting rare – look around
Stand there and make a list of the things that scare you
If you dare
Who goes to sleep within immediate danger?
The tired, the beaten, the child! Evil is a human thing
Yet a lot of what humans do remains amazing
We enjoy electricity, yet worry about good water
Time to tell our stories to the trees, play birds
like violins, enjoy visits to other places, worlds
away we may be the ones being watched like art
hung in galleries and intergalactic museums
Walk in shackles, shuffling obedient
We took part in the degrading of us
Some got upset having to sit still & listen
Others sure they’d remain innocent
Fear roadblocks, barbed & concertina wire
Be a refugee with no papers, no documents
that would convince the border guards
Called foreigner, persona non grata, animal
Kept in the same massive herd we arrived in
Played their game of catch the food, spill the water
Live in a world where only the basic needs
are deemed worthy of being met, as if
there really were a lack of funds. No one
wanted to die. Not at first, anyway
Needing rain we get it all today. The limbs filled with leaves
droop, then sway in a gust raining wet drops as the boughs lift
looking perhaps for the sunshine staring dull behind a cloud
cover stretching from the Ohio Valley to the North Atlantic
No thunder and lightning yet – it’s forecast this afternoon
I hope there is no damaging wind like last week where
so many trees got twisted and uprooted, Downed power lines
and debris blocked side streets…just now getting cleared
Torrential downpours lull a steady light rain. A few birds
dare the feeder. Lanky saplings take an occasional bow
All goes quiet in between storms. The sun gets brighter
and the roads begin drying, In another hour or so more rain
is set to fall into the night. Our dreams, invaded by the density
of over population, have witnessed this tranquil moment
None of us will be the same from here on