Still searching for teachers

Still searching for teachers

The power of mistakes

Or absorbing beauty

And its seismic soulquakes

I haven’t forgotten 

Gifts of casual time

And the Art of living

Between cuckoos or chime

Days becoming pastel

Days becoming pastel

Passion in leisure sighs

Rich tones hidden folded

Complacent to the why’s 

Flat lining in footsteps 

Ah, but the dreams we speak

From Challenger Deep to

The Mount Everest peak

Back into the rapids

Back into the rapids

Antelope music notes

The fury of action

Up where gravity floats

Truth has no facets and

Could not be more clearer

Even if broken a

Mirror will still mirror

Crows recognize faces

Crows recognize faces

And they tell other crows

I can hear the cawing

And now everyone knows

We carry a knowledge 

A book that is well read

From cover to cover

So beware where you tread

They told me I was sick

They told me I was sick

That poetry is dead

That I should get some help

No explanation said 

I was the pallbearers

Dirging my own coffin

This is how they made me

Feel and way too often

This late night town crier

This late night town crier

Rambling in words and walk

Expressing the heartfelt

When it’s quiet and dark

Soon there will be workers

Rushing with lowered heads

Routinely stepping with

Internalizing saids 

Let these held waters pool

Let these held waters pool

Evaporation waits

But change is far greater 

Than mere physical states

Art is a catalyst

Not moon echoing light

Its assault or embrace

Compounding expedite