There’s one tired house in an old ghost town just North of Expiry Utah. Nobody bothered boarding up the windows of the old post office or taking down the “open” sign on the Hodgkins diner. They all just decided to up and leave the day the boulder broke loose from Mount’s Peak. It now sits on the edge of it’s millennial throne awaiting the day to plunge, and at half the size of the mountainside there’s no question where it goes.
In a place like this, with a danger like that the crows should own the sound, but every night, at a half past six, the banjo sings out loud. An old woman dances and the old man plays till the fire burns to the ground, and the sound of freedom spills out thick from every crack in the clouds.
You’d think the fear of tomorrow gone would overcast the Spring, but the sound of the birds and the smell of the rain do not seem to agree, and the clumsy thoughts of the big grey rock always seems the same, that the feel of the ground and the seed put down are the matters of today.
My bones were tired – walking for years.
I didn’t realize the sky was missing,
and my heels had turned to stone.
The trees were charcoal,
and behind me was darkness…
It ate my footsteps as they hit the ground.
Knowing what I know now I may not have
smelled that flower when it called my name.
I didn’t know that if I stared too long
nectar could get caught in my veins.
I didn’t know I would have to leave it behind,
that it wasn’t mine.
It taunted me for all this time, but that’s fine.
It reminds me of ten years from now,
of that thing I’m here to find,
just past the mountain of time,
where the seed is sprouting,
that the vultures will not find.
The moment that’s now is the sole place we’re free,
and the mind is a tool, so allow it to be,
but to slide ever deeper to place without name
requires mind processes and thoughts must be tame.
But force the mind not to withdraw from post
before measures are taken to ensure smooth coast,
for the mind’s only duty when perched at the helm
is to aid in safe travel through the physical realm.
So when the mind speaks of dangerous shore
it pays to consider what may be in store,
for to hide in the moment when things aren’t complete
may open the door of apathetic defeat.
So sinking in deeply when all chores are done
makes a deep satisfaction more easily won,
but before making chores for oneself to do
consult with your soul to make sure they’re for you.
Security, comfort, warm, loving embrace – these are the things my mind and body keep asking for, a warm, secure, never ending embrace, money, security, friends, warm sun, the leather of a boat seat – these are the things it asks for. It wants money, respect, prestige, and it wants it now.
My heart seeks bliss, the warm, ever lasting embrace of bliss. These are the things my heart asks for, but it is apparent, the time is not now. My heart must wait. We stand and hope that the real bliss will come, but its apparent we must wait. We must keep walking forward, forward in the face of fear.
Why am I on this journey? Why have I dropped security in hopes of something I cannot see nor know? Why have I let go of nearly everything I trusted in and began walking into the unknown? And what am I to do now besides keep walking? Is it possible to gain comfort in the cold?
This vision I am seeking, will I find it? I keep dreaming. I keep imagining the goal, the ever-changing goal. I keep walking, putting my hope in hope, laying my fear down as foot stones, paving the road.
There’s a monster named boredom who everyone’s seen
that hides in the cracks between day-to-day things.
With undying patience he’ll sit and he’ll stay,
through all of our efforts to keep him at bay.
We construct great walls of things to do,
with hobbies as bricks and plans as glue.
From moment to moment we say he’s not there,
but cracks in the mortar reveal us his stare.
With all of our efforts we guard from the fear,
though few of us wonder just why is he there,
but the bravest among us will quietly pray
as she takes down the wall and invites him to play.
And what she finds is the biggest surprise,
that the voice of her heart is what dwells in his eyes,
for right in the center of all of our chests
lies a unique desire that will not rest.
And if we allow it to guide our steps
the touchstones of life are passion and depth,
and whether it growls or whether it’s sings
depends if it’s covered with day-to-day things.