B&W's from a secluded stream in Augusta, ME

Enter Utopia

I experience renewal
vicarious as it is
and purity enters
into my soul
I experience the exodus
the shifting of my focus
toward the bright lights
the love blooming
transcending the baseness
transforming into newness
I experience colors changing
blending, braiding
the drawn lines fading
away
away with the disconcertion
the moral desertion
I savor the experience
the blinding
enlightening
renewal that is
unknowing, though not accidental
healing, though not medicinal
breakaway, though not spiteful
I anticipate the experience
the awakening, rising up
down with our diseased hearts and minds
the end of it all now
Utopia will come
I experience renewal
I experience it piece by piece
every time I see the love
connecting dots from one to another
and the bright lights glow, rejoicing
Vicarious as it is, I experience the renewal

Gigas, or The Search For Second Chances

How to escape, I posed,
Amid manic conversations
With myself over nshima and ndwio.
Relics beseeched,
Skeleton meals without laughter,
And I could say
It was the African dust
That brought tears,
And add lies to the table.
So much better, the road,
To run and seek fables.
A land of second chances
Despite a bitter ice storm,
That encases the trees.
And when the sun rose
Over distant hills
The trees were set afire,
Crackling under the weighted wind,
A glimpse of ordinary,
Became transcendent,
And I missed my turn.
Now every road,
Leads to a judge.
Every building,
The home of a jury,
And the air here,
Thickens in my lungs.
Every breath as if underwater,
But I resurface to a voice,
Announcing a sign ahead,
Leading to the border,
Of second chance land.
When I round the corner,
I worry, will it be there?
And if not, will I continue?
Either way, should I care?
Should I care,
If this road is empty,
And I am alone.
I press harder on the gas,
Not for lack of care,
But only because,
Until I find that fabled land,
There will be no place,
To rest my head.

Hireath (The Longing)

I am the mist,
Always seen,
Yet never known.
Lost to you, Lost in your separation.
A cacophony,
So loud and rapid.

And whether it be,
Highland or lowland,
Hill or vale,
You would not care,
When I shrouded you.
Only the deepest,
Asking,
Who is there?
Before their own fog,
Takes them.

I am the mist,
Veiling sacredness;
Begging to be known.
Finding apathy,
In the irony,
That I am more like you,
Than you know.

And whether it be,
A touch or a glance,
And embrace or caress,
Eyes aching,
And so alone,
Begging,
The fog to lift,
And hardened hearts,
To know you,
And the sacredness,
The world of love and pain,
Within.

I am the mist,
And I am you.

Berlin Pearl

No almanac could predict
Sadness with a brother
in four walls of thoughtfulness,
offering me no comfort,
only a cradle of mindfulness.
Sparks firing in darkness
and cerebral spinal fluid.
Neurons sending impulses,
sensations felt,
perceptions made,
moving along broken pathways
inside a broken man, relating to
A broken world. So long having
wondered, along with
every man, woman, and child.
Wandering along with
every exile and seeker.
Pilgrims on a sacred journey
through a land, in the dark.
A dark age that never ended
with the return of highborn
thoughts of a self
who does not know and
Does not care for agape,[1]
deifying instead eros,[2]
while rejecting knosko[3]
of anything and everything,
seeking knowledge only
toward the end of self-satisfaction and
the delusion of self-righteousness.
The beginning of a thirst,
which is never quenched.
We are like a myth,
slashing at reality.
At the Walls of Troy,
with an arrow in our heels,
In a desert of a valley
like a drain of death.
Rain upon it all
the satisfaction, and all goals
of false goodness evaporates
leaving a valley of dry bones
who speak volumes when
they beg for a prophet to speak
words of life that move the dead,
but the word does not come.
The waiting
like the sun, illuminating
the dust before our eyes. Asking
for the world
and receiving nothing
that is not already ours.
We are blind
to the surrounding life,
the Logos[4]
that courses through everything
and everyone.
Linking, like a river delta
that intertwines with thousands
of channels, streams,
and branches.
Pulsating with the same waters,
and pouring from the same source
seen in the minds of children.
Being that holy innocence that
must be seen in all things
to be loved.
Rushing like a wrecking ball
toward the Berlin Wall,
which stands everywhere
but in Berlin.
A city, a country,
a world
built upon, within,
and around
pearl walls, born of pain,
upon pain, upon pain.
The sounds of anguish
echo in ears sending sparks racing,
being converted into electric Mercury,
through the white hallways
of pearl mazes. Encased
within the mind, floating
in cerebral spinal fluid,
Into which, if all
had a glimpse, one
fractional glimpse, of ME,
of YOU,
of who WE
really ARE,
Then the beauty encased
within that aged pearl,
built day after day after
tomorrow might be brighter.
Tomorrow,
when pearl transforms
and diamonds replace.
Exalting what is born
out of anguish.
In an instant, our lost and
wandering souls transform,
feeling the cool touch of
the river that flows through
All who are born
in Logos, which is living,
loving.
Moving perpetually, over
and through all walls,
carrying our eyes,
our hearts, and minds.
Suddenly,
we know deeper,
with knosko we
love one another
unconditionally,
with agape, like the displaced
family we are.
With that glimpse we see
no beginning or end between us,
no walls and no borders,
we love as if
it is ourselves we love.
I as if it is me
as if within me lay
the beauty of all.
One stream
within the delta
of humanity.

[1] Greek: Unconditional Love
[2] Greek: Erotic Love
[3] Greek: True Knowledge
[4] Greek: Living Word

Eden RisingI had driven up Cadillac Mt. in Bar Harbor, ME

early to catch the sunrise. When I arrived at the

top the clouds obstructed the view. Disheartened,

I drove back down only to have my last turn before

entering the forest again reveal the sun burning away

the early morning cloud cover.

I pulled over, jumped from my vehicle with my camera

and snapped away.

This was the prize.

Dialogues of the Hearth (A Love Poem for Humanity)

My heart
Is an open door,
Calling to you
To come and sit.
Warm yourself
At the hearth.

Sit,
And I will tell you
of the wind in Québec
of the rain in Paris
of the fires in Lunshaya
of the earth in Mexico
of the trees and
rocks and
waterfalls in Maine
In the spring.

This and all in-between,
All the paths we lead.
And a simple desire
For you to know
Who I am
And love me.

And though I
Do not know you
I wish to,
And to love you
For you deserve all
The world’s love

Je t’adore tu