Poetry: Beginning Ends

Sometimes
blue water
like the kind you can’t stop looking into
carries me
to the far side of this island
where I wake up
on white powder sand
waves don’t reach this quiet cove
and will anything else…
save for the wind?

I might pick a sunburned day
to see the cave
where the last human laid to rest
after it got all quiet
again,
but before something more
rose up to speak
in their weighted
although
flighty stead.

They’ll say
with words
as soft as baby clouds
that we almost made it.
They’ll make lightning
to strike to the top
of the mountain with the cave
where the last human laid down
to rest
to punctuate
how they brought it down
upon their own heads…
and the thunder will sound
like guns
and hate
or like the now quiet
minds
that were almost always filled with cacophony
that led to no rest.

The sun is a constant
and life is like water…
condensing
evaporating.
Puddles dry in the heat…
it happens.
Oceans that are so long lasting
that they freeze in place…
it happens.

If you think about it
what qualifies someone else
as trustworthy
isn’t them
it’s you.

If you feel the undertow
of the ocean
do you look at the moon?

When you don’t see
leaves moving
do you look around
for where
the wind went to?

How many times
did you put your hand
on your heart
and smile
at least a little bit
in wonder
about you
being you?

No one’s watching
go ahead.
I won’t tell anyone.
And right  now
you are the only one that matters.

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About skymeetingtheground

Healer, poet, author, yogi, single father...outdoorsy guy.
This entry was posted in Poetry, sacred poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Poetry: Beginning Ends

  1. tealas says:

    Thank you for this one. I am not “happy” to say that I experience a deeper understanding of it this morning, and this one…
    “The roads don’t become straight.
    The answers don’t become easier to bear”
    Peace,
    Teala

    Like

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