Meditation Set #4

Tenderness...

brutal and sharp, vulnerable -

violet crocus against empty snow.

In this shining void

i can't seem to find the leak

much less determine if things

are spilling out or pouring inwards.

How much belief is too much belief?

---

Jurassic forest floors long since swallowed up

by waves of bleach-grained beaches,

overgrown trails winding through Autumn mountains,

remnants of leaves,

coniferous greens now umber, still scented like cold pine -

the language buried in campfire signals, ley lines and worn river rocks...

that deep and whispering code just at the edge of comprehension,

damp and ancient.

Smoke rises, lingering like a shadow,

a haunting dawn breeze, here then gone...

so much of the world already slipping away unnoticed.

For all things alike -

Death...

is but a sharpness in the void.

---

Tick Drip Tock Drop

Sidewinding somethings beneath the belly of day,

pieces falling out here and there,

a trail of broken sprockets...

stunted thoughts discarded like litter.

Easy to trace the path of destruction,

but impossible to determine

in just whose wake we seem find ourselves.