the garden – thoughts

The garden is an important place for a man to reside. To sit down at the bench overlooking the pond dressed in lily and stones embroiled in moss. The garden is life, not a painting of life or an artificial reconstruction, it breaths. It doesn’t need your hands for it to flourish and grow, you need the garden to grow yourself. The standard work environment is dead, it has no smell, no life. Glass windows, forming a glass tower, with concrete floors and white walls housing an array of ego stimulated personas. The garden is where we should spend our precious time, reallocate your hours from spending time putting numbers into computers and taking numbers out of computers. A place in which the record of what you do is more important than what you do. My grandfather retired, then began to tend to his garden, my father will soon retire and also plans to tend to his garden in his later stages of life.  The thoughts of leisure in the garden keep them motivated until the day they are eligible for a pension. They never thought of returning to the office or the mail room to work in a more relaxed theme and without pay. Does a man that works most of his life in the garden, then retire to cultivating new hobbies, never to be seen trimming back the hazel bush or planting runner beans in spring? No, he works in his garden until his final days.

in a single breath – 0030

A single breath is all that remains
Inhaling the remnants of a discarded heaven
The ash will reach me soon
There is no fire, no flame
Just remnants of what could have been
The mind inflicts all pain
I am numb to the burning now
It’s my thoughts that hurt
My thoughts that burn through to my soul
I pray my thoughts die here tonight
I want to run through the woods
Only with my soul as guide

night shadows – 0029

Sleep escapes me for another night 

The comfort of a forgetful dream will not visit me

My tired eyes wander across my tired walls

A feeling of unease arises about my surroundings

Maybe it’s too familiar, an ounce of mystery would be welcome here 

The silent glow of the moon begins to wisper to me before a short lament   

Telling me to let go, before he must go

Leaving me alone with the darkness that stirs until morning 

The distant church chimes gather in greater number with every hour that passes 

A reminder to me of the hours I shouldn’t be witnessing

Hours not meant for men like me

When the shadows no longer need to hide 

They walk around unwatched, expressing sounds of pride 

My mind is restless, counting the thoughts of yesterday, the endless conversations and repeated situations 

All my sheep have been accounted for, no more for me to ponder

The close of day and the close of night merge as one  

Without the seperation I’ve come to expect, the binary of one’s and zeros 

No juxtaposition 

There’s no duality for me to see

Just the gradual ease with which the sun turns the sky red

In anticipation of the expectant blue to take her rightful place 

She waits beside the sun for the shadows to reappear 

Back into sight for the early wanderers to see

A close friend to walk alongside them 

To follow them closely down the road, as they make their way to work 

A loyal friend returning from the forgiving night, that granted a pass

When they could roam without the watchful eye, that allows for the sky

The clocks chime once more 

Seven are counted in succession 

Which means I must rise 

Like the sun that has gone before me this morning 

Knowing now I can watch the shadows in safety

They dance around me

Masking their pain 

As for this day they are no longer free 

Tide down to the wanderers and the solitary buildings without opportunity to flee

The day is now too bright to reminisce of the nights when God grants them a key 

To unlock the chains that hold them be

i should have kissed you – 0027

I should have kissed you

When you looked deep into my eyes

Moving your sensual gaze onto my lips

I should have kissed you

After taking the melted chocolate, away from your crimson lips, with a romantic tenderness

I should have kissed you

When I told you how beautiful you are, leading to an expectation that slowly faded, into another unwritten poem

I should have kissed you

When I said farewell

So you would understand how much I wanted you to stay

you are already that – 0026

Poetry flows around my body in meditation

Like the air that comes through my window to touch my skin

The words penetrate the chambers of my heart

Each syllable moves through my veins

Reaching my extremities

To flow from my fingertips into the world

I open my eyes

Expecting to see my Lord

Dressed in white

A brightness that would cause my eyes to adjust

But the room is empty

Only the sound of birds singing

The same song that put me into a deep meditation

I listen carefully

To the chorus of the blackbird

I hear a distinctive pattern

It’s familiar

The same pattern I see in the eyes of the girl I love

In the formation of a fig tree

In the movement of a flickering flame

I understand the bird song

Like a universal language

It says

What you are searching for

You are already that