tearandstrain
mothandflame
Witness to a tragedy
birdandpane
turnsoutthesame
Oblivious to Sanctu'ry
Watcher from the shadow prison
Helpless sees the play unfold
And in the night the damage leaps
from Flame to Moth
to Watcher.
Silent tears of rage and loss.
And yet.
Hope.
(Phoenix)
There is a red which certain maples wear
This time of year in Maine. It speaks in calm
Authoritative tones that banish trans-
ient woes.
When come upon it captivates the heart,
And gives observers pause to contemplate
It's fire juxtaposed with winter's coming frost.
Like the glimpse or scent of love absent
It's bittersweet embrace aches.
with promise.
Can you see me?
Wishing from afar.
Transparent.
In plain sight.
Can you hear me?
Wishing from afar.
Speechless.
When it matters most.
Can you feel me?
Wishing from afar.
Numb with fear.
The dream will fade away.
Terrified it won't.
The blue box in the vortex.
Interstices.
Eternities.
Companions on a Quest.
Words between the written lines.
Implication.
Inference.
The Bard and Audience.
The paper tugboat in the stream.
Abandoned.
Remembered.
Embrace the Ambiguities
Sweet surrender beckons.
A Siren song floats from my lips
Thrice denied the ache arises
The song is swallowed with regret
And to the Shadow I return
Familiar darkness calls.
The depths and I embrace once more
Languid motion through the water
Caressing and caressed again
Alone the journey marches on
Fairy kingdoms on display.
Life in riots on the reef
Diverse spectrum all around
Bold and timid, bright and gray
Web of niches interwoven
Flora, fauna, symbiosis
All arrangements make the scene
Bio-chemo-geologic
And every discipline between
Human history preservation.
From the gloom a tragic treasure
Once afloat on sea or sky
At once eerie and compelling
Tell the tale of your demise
Brief encounter ends.
Tortured I release the rapture
Follow bubbles toward the light
Breaking surface inhalation
Reality intrudes again.
Sweet surrender beckons.
Waves smash up and over the rocks of the point, propelled by an unimaginable confluence of minutiae and chaos. This is the quantum foam writ large - no better model than the surf on the shattered bones of the earth which is the Maine coast.
There are many walks of life present. All are reverent sentinels, each in their own way. Not unlike Easter Island, though somewhat more diverse. Most are at attention, facing south, together.
A foggy day on my own. Many visitors are on the point, couples, families with picnics and / or dogs. Lots of dogs here.
The breeze is light and the fog masks the working lobsterboats, all but the sound of their engines. Deep throated, chuffing diesels in the nursery of the fog, give rise to visions of dragons and krakens idling off the coast, just hoping an easy meal will set out from shore.
I still haven't seen the seal. I bet all the barking dogs can smell him. It's when they're all quiet that the visions in the fog become compelling. Best to follow the dogs' example, lest the boojum make known that you've seen it.
