Porous mind,

Days fill my brains,

Is the flood:

Mountain river streams,

Or is it human grey?

Sudden fury of pure nature,

and of human strains,

We all face the heat of life,

in the permanence of the day.

Adapt yet hold fast this wondrous shape,

Ice may not seem aqueous,

Just then it sublimates

The nearby mountains sing of life in the foothills,

Not much beats the stellar’s jay and squirrel’s shrill,

The lurking clouds hold a bold chorus key,

The murky shores echo local forestry,

All join together with wind and the sunshine,

The lake and our fate orchestrate for this one time

Finding the Light like a Crow’s Flight

I live in the shadow of my own dream,

For days and days I climb over mounds of

Buried plans, mud-sliding under my feet,

A giant excavator is pouring,

Obstacles of truth, and my boot gets stuck,

Just like a child at play, I leave the boot,

Now wallowing in piles of ideas,

And so filthy, I cannot go to school,

A mess, marked by the mire of the shadows,

Going back to retrieve my sure-footing,

What would the classmates say, or the teachers?

‘Just go home son, and come back tomorrow’,

This is not a choice for me now, adult,

There is no tomorrow, only here and now,

Covered in half-baked mud and crud, I rise,

Can you question the state of the worker?

Fresh from the job, in constant toil, no rest,

Make no assumptions with all I have seen,

I climb to the top of the slope, grabbing

The roots of trees hanging where mud erodes,

Scrambling for the light of my goals and dreams,

My fingernails thick with dirt, I climb up,

And soon lay past the treacherous incline,

Panting, gasping, sweaty, covered in grime,

Sit up:  look for the success of such steps,

A full forest shields the light I look for,

Dense woods, cedar and pine scraping the sky,

I can hear the echo of my own hopes,

I walk through grass and brush,

The fierce scolding of a crow reaches me,

The sun sets far beyond tangled forests,

It is getting late – I will take no chance,

The dark forest may go on endlessly,

I wait for the moon to tell the future,

I have been right: tomorrow does not begin,

I sleep in the wilderness with dark dreams,

In the morning, the sun rises again: today,

Steam follows, orange, and magenta skies,

Even the shadows hide, on my day of thoughts,

I am free to search the forest for truth,

Even to look far for the other side,

Today I tread over mulch, branches and leaves,

Skip across creeks, and reach down to taste cold water,

Wash my face in the mountain run-off,

Try to make sense of it all, and build plans,

What will I do with the light and the night?

Who will be the guide: the sun, moon or stars?

When the path is a reflection, like in the moon,

Is our shadow more awake?

Or do we live in pure form, as we always follow the sun?

As the truth builds mountains: can we climb through?

Or climb over, respected for the work,

We make our decisions wise each day,

Dreams hold clear ties to the light,

and follow the crow’s flight

Goals

To only be immutable, irrefutable and cool not cold,

Enjoy seven to eleven and be as bold as we are told,

Never to be confused, or in any way abused,

But patience is the difference that it makes,

Don’t forsake the good friends,

Make no truth to be too intense,

Even if we might make a few mistakes,

To just enjoy the calm of silence, without the violence, and find a truth to trust,

Forget the blame, because it is all the same, we all like to live by our lust,

Not to condone sin, but let everyone known in,

Sometimes to be real, depends on how we fake,

Don’t forsake our good sense,

Watch the time we sent false pretense,

Know the pay off in equivalence we make,

Do only what we know is right, don’t cause a fight, and think it through,

Learn peace is found in the clear bold sound of the goods we chose to be true,

Not to pretend love, but when push comes, why then shove?

Soon to see there is one clear way we will succeed,

Don’t misread what to say,

Or do time that we should not pay,

But work hard to reach goals with our quick speed

Freedom can provide us with opportunities to observe nature,

Freedom is intermittent,

Like rain, it may start in a torrent,

Or leave as a mist,

It can come and go in gusts,

Or hover in the clouds indefinitely,

The drought is wicked,

Floods can be worse,

Then we gather our senses

*******

Had to finish these twitter poems.  I’m thinking of writing other works, if I get some free time!

Freedom, to me depends on mood and situation more than anything. If anxiety or suffering creeps in, parts of freedom, or some perception/visions of freedom can fade.

Senses bring us in tune with nature and the daily weather,

It’s an awareness of beauty, and at times, savage power,

Nature is everything,

Pollution, cities, and people are nature,

Humans are creatures that impact,

Everything,

All that is,

Spirit, material, paradox and all human perception: Nature

Shaping the future takes learning of the past,

Effort in the present. Confidence. Craft.

Triumph in life starts as we begin to crawl,

Can we build a better world – to suit all?

Impossible depends on mood and flimsy data,

Perseverance pays off, but just a little while later.

The timing of when I wrote this is striking to me.  When I look back, even though I was oblivious to the connection in this industry, and specifically today’s world, I see parallels that must have driven it, beyond punctuation, rhyme and poetry.