Hold the tiller fast
As grey gulls surf
The unseen wave
Leeward of the mast
And I at peace
In my dead reckoning
Far between the harbours
Of duty and burden
Riding the tide of release
The camera never lies
But the photographer
Knows how to fib
And should I find
A mountaintop
Who’s to say
I find the one
Reserved to some
Refused to those
Who’ve never known
The pinnacle
But I this beauty’s grunge perceive
Projection of my ego’s fear
So let such love that cannot be
Reveal my weakness to be clear
Reveals a jagged truth
Painful and disturbing
Integrity’s challenge
Never are we more beautiful
Than when we conquer
The falsehoods of our fears
I linger here
Instead the heated hearth of home
Frigid fingers upon my camera work
Until chill moment captured thus
By an eye that cannot shirk
In the infinity of moments passing
Before a moment could be noticed
What choice was there but to be
Though such was not a choice
In the next infinity of moments passing
Before a moment could be valued
What choice was there to be good
What choice was there to be evil
So I wonder if
Somehow
The more we choose to value
The less we choose to be
The more good and evil we create
Out of the nothingness of being
Which preceded time
Some might say
Dark times ahead
But unknowns
Are not darkness
One hand holds the chalk of light
While the other clears the slate
Upon the dark revealed we write
With clarity our fate
Pix to Words 