Tag: writing

The pulse of being

I once thought of myself
As mind
As a being who thinks

I believed thought
Was the centre
Of my being

Until I began
To sense
The presence of existence itself

Ocean, land and sky
What little more need I

Than love?

Sometimes I am called quite late
To set
On a Friday
In the afternoon

They serve us eggs on toast
With bacon (Gawd, we love bacon!)
We greet each other
“Good morning!”

As I approach
The crow jeers
CAW CAW CAW!
Mocking bird

One more step

Sometimes we do conquer
Nature’s little trials
With graceful power and beauty
A blessed act of style

Should we grow too cocky
Nature, she will smile
With graceful power and beauty

Blinded by the rain and fog
Tossed by the wind, adrift

With her sails all torn
The great tall ship
Her tiller shorn

She broke her back
Upon the stone

From my little perch
Above the black rock and sand
Where the surf runs to foam
And the blue sky peeks through the clouds

I watch the Earth breathe
Breathing in with the flood
Breathing out with the ebb
The eternal dance
Of the sea upon the shore

You may think
The desert is dead
Give it a little water
And watch it come to life

People are like that too
On the inside they may seem a little dead
But all they are
Is thirsty

Little jade moth
Flew in for a visit
Stayed for a day

Told no stories
Left only enigmas

The cabins disappear
Into thickened air
As if a blizzard
Fell upon us

It is August
No snow is falling
But the haze
Of forests burning