Look into an alpine lake's eye
and see the forever depth
- the blue blood of Earth
and swim on the icy surface
submerging yourself into the veins
of nature
contenting with yourself that burning lungs
will not take you far enough
not to where souls are birthed
not even close enough to see
but near enough (most certainly) to witness
glowing azure spirits steering their glances at you
as they rise from placid lake's skin
into the sunshine
In a whirlpool I am a leaf
no arms to swim
or legs to kick,
brown and red freckled skin
torn and speckled in nicks
--
In a stream a million leaves
no where to go
or arrival time,
water logged and sodden hope
dirty and covered in grime
--
In an eddy a pool of death
no moon above me
or stars to speak of,
shooting and sun burnt hearts
bright and full of love
--
In a daze a field of white
no green above
or bright colors below,
waving and wind bent fall
blowing and swaying over snow...
I am Old Man Winter
you are young, wild and freewheeling Spring
and even if my screams wail,
"Mercy! Oh, Mercy,"
you warm my heart child
---
In my wake you leave the meadow,
the purple flowers,
the red flowers,
and the sun shines on them
---
I am remembered,
I am not forgotten
---
My blood boils down canyons,
and cliffs
slides over rocks and meadows
into swamps, ponds and lakes
---
You, my child will birth Summer,
as I birthed you,
and she will birth Fall,
and one day soon,
I will reawaken saddened
by my loss of you
and my cold heart will freeze the land,
- yet, eventually, it will change
when again, young, wild and freewheeling Spring,
you warm my heart
---
And in my wake you leave the meadow,
the purple flowers,
the red flowers,
and the sun shines on them
---
I am remembered,
I am not forgotten
There are times I believe life is not just a slave to fate, but we are in control of that fate. If we want, so shall we receive, but only if we want more than anyone else, more so than the hordes, or those more blessed than ourselves. We each are masters of our fates. It is up to us to fight to gain the reins and control our future.
--
If fortune is a matter of fate
Then I am, too
A subject of fate
Imagine destiny bottled up
and all humanity inside
each battling to swim to the top
In this way, the outcome of our future paths
is guaranteed by our innermost desires
to make it so
Thus, fate
it is a real and moving force
not dictated by random chance
but by heart, desire, courage – and
our audacity to overcome challenge
If you want more than anyone else
then you will have
If you crave enough
you will sacrifice all
to meet your goals
No matter our births
we each are armed with fate
to steer our ship-of-lives
to greener pastures
and toward dreams insofar
unfulfilled and unrealized
That's a powerful force
each of us should reckon
and never abandon
Because the sea of existence is wide and fierce
and a rogue ship knows no direction
no chance is ruled by chance
It is by the wills of another
you are moved to meet their ends
and to be a pawn should be no man's fate
For every action has an equal and opposite reaction
You look out and all you see is blurred. There is distraction, but not a curiosity. You are through.
This poem is an allegory of the river and a life derailed. I have found that nothing gets life in focus more than facing a life thought near an end. Having been swept up in rapids during my years as a whitewater boater, I saw this as appropriate in explanation for the ups and downs of life and the challenges we all face.
--
When you look into the misty tomorrows
And yesterdays
When you dwell on the currents
Churning and turning to and away
Do you linger in the spell of dumbfounded hope
Or do you cast yourself into the rapids
And dash it all against rocks
Drown your desperation
Your fire
Your spirit
Curse at the canyons the river has carved
The horizon lines you see hinted at
Ahead of you
The falling, twisting and turning
That no longer matters
The weak arms and legs
That no longer listen to the pleas
Of a still fighting conscious
It does matter
You know now
It does
And you will do anything to be let go
From this place
A friends hand reaches out
A branch or log awaits you
Or a bend pushes you toward an eddy
You are free
You are no longer desperate
You are seeing
You now know what is important to you
You KNOW and there's nothing else holding you
You have your own rapids to make
Your own twists and bends to form
Your own canyons to carve
