The Gentle Wind

A travelling gust blows unseen along the riverbank of the morning star. No more shall leaves and sticks and dust be carried along.

Flowing gently across the earth,
A moments breath, a moments worth,
Gentle kiss from a second love,
Guiding wings of the morning dove.

The Forest of Tranquility

The smell of burning wood brings a certain kind of peace to mind. Just the smell is all enough to settle sporadic thought, especially in the midnight forest.

Chirps are a distant memory as the music of the forest is replaced with the crickets song.
The rustling of the bushes are heard through the dead of night as they prance and dance along.
The burning wood amongst the campfire brings a warm glow of delight as it gently kisses the skin.
What more can be asked for when spending time with the Earth? There is nothing here to gain, nothing here to win.

All that there is, is a moment to be. Relaxed and pure as the forest air we breathe.

The Stony Shores

The stony shores settle as the rising lunar orb climbs to its highest peak amongst its siblings and cousins of shining light. The air becomes still and pure, never knowing a spark of worry. A cooling breeze hits the face of the shore, a welcoming chill amongst the warm and starry night.

Waves after waves begin anew,
A rhythm unbeknownst, through and through.
Patterns form from a distant shore,
Becoming entwined in all thats raw.

Upon the horizon a ship sails with utmost care,
Sailing along amongst the curls of the ocean hair.
Content amongst the darkness and warmth of night,
Slowing moving as from dark to light.

A timeless moment etches itself into the face of time. Forever becoming a moment unto itself – an endless fleeting feeling of a distant memory.

The stony shores sings a song so pure. As sure as the waves march on the shore – the stony shores are surely pure. The rhythmic waves become an endless cure.

The Cure Of Nature

The rays calls upon him like the howl of a fellow pack wolf. The glistening blue sky reaches its arms of cloud to give him a warm embrace. Becoming part of the sky, becoming part of the sun. Nature incarnate, natures nature. It is all within, if he so wishes to choose. The warmth of the sun, the expanse of the sky. He is the mountains reaching high. He is the valleys reaching low. He is the blade of grass beneath his feet, with so many other blades. Yet a blade unique.

Upon the highest point the scorching ball sings,
For so long, transfixed by eternal golden wings,
Emanating from a ball so pure, so sure,
Time becomes a blur, Nature’s natural cure.

Rise once again, rise once anew.
Begin life once as you truly knew.

Eyes Of Stone

Stone filled eyes chipped and charred, his tears forming mist, becoming part of the smoke of the half lit cigarette. It has become a distant memory, the flights of birds and sunshine eyes. No longer.

Eyes of hope transforms and consumes him.
Such good is never lasting, he shouldve known.
A grand feeling should be a daunting sin.
A mighty seed has grown as all thats shown.

Yet a glimmer of pasts feeling still remain,
It becomes a part of him to learn and grow,
There is much to learn, much to gain,
Build upon the past and let it flow.

How much longer? He asks himself. The past may daunt, but the past it gone. It shant be so, as it is. The layers of rock begin to crumble as his perspective changes of past. No longer shall it affect me so… No longer.

Heal

Grasp the morrow and make it true,
For the day before has gone and flew,
Never again look back in fear,
Replenish thyself, far and near.

Once anew begins another day,
Be not stuck in pasts torment way,
Look ahead and grasp the morrow,
Leave alone the hate and sorrow.

The Eyes and Hands

A grand display beyond a doubt,
Lights beyond a scream and shout.
Tasting eyes on the shining bright,
Sparks do fly from light to light.

One speck alone is not a treat,
Feast your eyes and take a seat!
Its all for you, your eyes to bear,
Not a charge! Its only fair!

As they sit and stare beyond the light,
Prowlers roam with hands so slight.
Hypnotised with droopy eyes,
Hands are filled with hidden lies.

The specks have seen the last of night,
Droopy eyes will fill with sight,
Walk away with minds of might,
Never know the hands of slight.

It becomes a distant echo in time as the eyes relish the moment of light from the darkened world. No longer will they see another speck of light until the next festive spark shines on bright. As the hands empty their hidden lies so too shall the shine become bright once again.