The Trackless Path

I am drawn to the song of the heart, sung with others. It’s been so many years since I sang. Perhaps I will find a choir. The thought feels like home. And yet I live in the boonies,  Not many great choral groups nearby. If I do join a choir, I want to find  Some people who take it seriously, Not professional musicians, but musicians, Not just a handful of parishioners  Looking for something to do ...

I am feeling rather practical today,  More like a merchant, less like a poet. I am intrigued by watching money, Seeing it slowly trickle in, Marking down the numbers Alotting the returns And pouring a portion of my means, Into the opportunities that wait. And what’s the point? To grow in wealth. How vulgar that once seemed. And yet, as the rivers flow into the Ocean, I am drawn unto this end, As i...

In the early journey of the soul, Spirits long to test the waters, To experience all they can. They want to try this And try that. They are curious. And they grow in light Then fall behind, then grow, Then fall behind. And it’s similar for old souls, They too want to know what’s out there But with a different motive. They no longer  Believe that they can grow By experience alone. They forsake  The...

We make do as best we can, don’t we? And when we can’t, it’s over. And that’s it.  That’s the story of life. People living, people dying. Some live well and some are lost In the problems they find along the way. But that’s all they are is problems. And all the problems are connected To the little life that’s ours here on this earth, Nothing lasting. Nothing eternal. So long as we can see it that w...

It doesn’t seem so hard now.  It’s just a matter of time And patience And movement  Toward the destination.

No more marathons. No more striving for the prize. It’s over. I’ve arrived At the place Where every want  Has been supplied. So that finally I can rest In silence.

Waiting in silence For the word. Sitting. Listening. Looking steadily Into the unseen place.

Children of the light Dancing into darkness, Forsaking all For the shadow  Of the ones  Who’ve gone before, Paving the way For future generations, Not children of the body But children of the soul, They transcend  The dark. They are the fathers,  Mothers of us all.

The hush of dusk settles in And finds me at my dest Still working. And that feels good, Not because it’s virtuous To work till the sun goes down, But because I want to keep on working.

As the sunshine touches  The uppermost tips of leaves With the day's first rays of microscopic bliss, And as the birds gather to the warmth  Of the summer morning, Even so, I sense  The hope of healing In the outermost corners of my consciousness And draw my focus upward toward the warmth  Of the thought of a body renewed  In strength and purpose and vitality. I flap my wings. I move my body U...

Money is at the same time cold and harsh,  And also beautiful. It is beautiful  Because it is cold and harsh and plain. It is one thing in life that you can count on To remain the same. You bend to its reality  Or crash against its solid frame. Two plus two is four. It is the terrible truth  That most men can never wrap their minds around. One day we will escape into a math that bends reality. But...

Never trust the praise of Mammon. It says that it loves you for your hard work, When in reality, it covets or clings to your ability to profit. It claims to respect your responsibility, When in reality, it just wants a piece of your acclaim. It is a jolly mate at sea,  A bosom friend  In arms. And how it clings to its fellows  When the rough seas of commerce Toss the collusion into upheaval. But h...

There is a gift in single minded work, Especially when it is for a worthy cause. It is that you do not have to think About your problems. And there is a gift in believing  That people are supposed to have problems. It allows you to go to work  And let go of other people's problems. 

I would guess that more than half  Of our ideas are hairbrained. Only by trying do we find out if we're right. So step into the action. Do something, anything  Based on a best guess  And find out if you are right?

You will have to come to me, little bird. I cannot chase you any longer. What I have, what I am, Will have to be enough, Since to chase For me means death. And so, I forsake your pretty feathers. I wear my rags with dignity And nurture these old bones with kindness. Come close, little bird. I will not grasp you. I will not harm you any longer. Come and perch upon my finger And then climb up up on...

A dream… You the policeman, I the wandering vagrant. You upholding the laws that join house to house And field to field til there is no more room left in the earth. I complying, moving on from place to place. But everywhere I go, you find me. You are the policeman in every town I come to, The good guy, the one with the law on his side. But you remember that we were once of the same tribe, Friends...

The lawn is overgrown And there's nothing I can do about it Because I can't afford a lawn mower right now, Not even a $40 used lawn mower. As at other times in my life,  I find myself waiting, Wanting to do the socially acceptable thing But unable to do so because of finances. And so the grass and weeds grow up around me With the flowers, flowers everywhere, In and amongst the weeds, A gif...

Lazy days,  Putzing around the house Doing this and that but with intention, Letting the oil of relaxation, repose, and recreation Seep in-between and lubricate  The little movements That I might otherwise call work, As if there is enough time, enough money, enough love To nurture, ease, persuade, this frail body Into another year of living.

Lessons from Raymond, the homeless man  Who helped prepare me for the road. To view previous lessons, look back through previous episodes Lesson 9 - Do It for Yourself I have always struggled with this idea Since it seemed self-centered. But I have to admit that when Raymond said it, There was a ring of truth. “I had a woman,” he said, “Down in Springfield. She was gorgeous And she wanted me to st...

Deep, deep, into the light there is a city, A country, forest, mountain, plain, Where nobody owns a single thing. And the residents dwell there alone, Alone and with their neighbor.  And yet, they don’t protect.  They don’t defend. They don't pretend that it is theirs. They renounce and renounce, And renounce again With every breath their sacred claim  Upon even themselves,  And by so doing Cl...

It appears that we don’t make opportunity happen. It seems to come to those who wait for it But who don’t waste time While they are waiting.

Opportunity comes to those who don't waste time. But that's not the same thing as being busy. You know when you're wasting time. Just stop doing that And opportunity will come to you.

It turns out that relative morality  Is actually founded in a moral absolute. Some things are easy. Rape is always wrong. But it is the grey areas that make us wonder  If there is no firm moral law. But when we look closer, We discover that circumstance decides. There is still a right and a wrong answer. We just may not be wise enough to see it. And there are even times When the right answer  Is t...

Lessons from Raymond, the homeless man  Who helped prepare me for the road. To view previous lessons, find my playlist entitled: Raymond Lessons. Lesson 8 - Keep Asking “Make a trade,” Raymond said. “Ok,” I said. And off we went. We tried a dealership But they were closed. And then we tried a guy Who just sold cars but he said no. “Do you know of anyone who might be interested?” Raymond asked. “Ye...

Melancholy and reflection are the poet’s friends. They leave and come again. They are the fertile soil That works its way  Between the toes of his imagination And prod and shift the kindling fires Of his unknown, unseen, deeply buried passion. And, in time, with much wrestling,  They bring forth the most delicate of flowers, Perfect curves and colors For the reader’s pastime hours. But little does...