The monuments we erect
To assure ourselves
Of our own greatness
Barely breach
The lowest cloud
Of nature’s modest creation
While the proof
Of our existence
Is a contrail adrift in time
Dissipating in the empty sky
Of infinite space
The monuments we erect
To assure ourselves
Of our own greatness
Barely breach
The lowest cloud
Of nature’s modest creation
While the proof
Of our existence
Is a contrail adrift in time
Dissipating in the empty sky
Of infinite space
We build
Ever higher
To breach the sky
This city in the clouds
City of privilege
Where feet rarely
Touch the ground
And hearts
Rarely
Touch each other
This amber glow
To end the day
In just repose
As glories fade
Now soon the night
Will bring its peace
This wintry light
A shortened lease
Though night be long
December chill
The fire’s song
And downy fill
Warm my soul
‘Til slumber comes
Pay dreamy toll
Returns the sun
On the cold days
I’m reminded
That most days
Life is a struggle
A struggle
To stay warm
And keep fed
To love
And be loved
A beautiful struggle
I squint into the sun
And existence becomes
A blackened vignette
With a sparkling path
Leading directly
To a burst of light
In a cloud-strewn sky
A vision I recognize
From those times of connection
When I was one with everything
And the knowledge of all existence
Seemed not only plausible
But within my grasp
Heady times
And I wonder
Was I mad then to believe
The epiphany was real
Or mad now to have let it slip
From experience
To memory
Now a personal myth
I discover the divine
In moments
Of connection
With all that is
I begin to wonder
If the divine
Is in the moment observed
Or is divinity
Created by the act
Of observing
With some bluster
Does the wind complain
Drives the sea
And the clouds
To fraught disdain
In these throes do I
Count my many blessings
For the calm
Which stills me
Deep inside
Unlike the waves
Upon the water
And the sky
My mind is quiet
Without torment to promote a cry
And while horizon
Soon the sun obscures
The star within
Shines bright
With everlasting light
Water’s souciant song
White as the snow still falling
Nature’s whisper: shhhhhhhh
A blanket of newness
Illuminated by the glow
Soon to become
Yesterday’s sun
Train wreck of a year
Called Twenty Twenty One ends
Twenty Twenty Two
Too?