syzygy

August 21, 2017 § 1 Comment

how beautiful, syzygy, suddenly interrupts
calls down to us, longingly, please, look up!
turn eyes skyward, widen narrow slits
blink away blurred vision, clouded with grit 

a ball of fire, 400 times more grand
a small moonrock in orbit, like a grain of sand
and our home, still searching to someday be whole
filled with life, love, wanderers, and lonely souls 

is it astronomical the three should align? 
or a prophecy defined by expanses of time?
it’s the call from inky seas, wherein mysteries lie
it’s the only way we’re here, the pull from the sky

it spins us in circles as time passes and thus
we’re aligned in the orbit as they call, look at us!
we appear to be different, they might explain
the sun with an incredible pulse that sustains

and the moon, shining only with the sun’s selfless light 
that gives without taking, yielding depth to the night
making peaceful patterns as we sleep and we wake 
in diligent duty, it only gives, never takes

the moon, it guards us in constant orbit
an incredible beacon, a silhouetted portrait 
dependably circling as we pull it near 
its loyal light a guide our planet holds dear

and our earth, the one so incredibly full
with the only beautiful form of life that we know

we are one, pulled together by forces of grand
mysteries floating within our expansive land
a sky, so filled with amazing unknowns
can’t you see, please, look up! we’re not so alone 

we’re different, yes, but so very the same
three lost rocks wandering in a darkened plane
we’re in this so deeply, with the expanses above, 
safely held in orbit by the gravity of love

syzygy pleads, please, open your mind!
the sun, the moon, the earth, all beautifully aligned,
can’t you see? we’re here, with love and with light
a calling from nature when day becomes night

a moment of peace in chaos and hurt
a call from the universe to our beautiful earth
it’s incredible, it’s here, it’s not yours or mine
it’s ours, it’s love, please value all humankind

shouting anthems of beauty, the universe interrupts
it’s light, it’s love, it’s ours,

please… look up…

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the omniscient sound

July 15, 2014 § 1 Comment

it’s the song for the wandering man
lost somewhere south of France
for the one who believes in madness
and lives in a starlit trance

it’s the song for those who can’t decide
if time is worth the wait
it’s for those who live in the valley
to hide from mountains of hate

it’s the song for those who chase
but can never reach the edge
the song about that forgotten match
flicked from the 8th story ledge

it’s the song that was sung by odysseus
as he sailed the immortal sea
the one that was sung by the crowds
as they lifted the gates and ran free

be it heroes or dreamers, those who fly
and the ones who have simply joined hands
it’s a song for those who can see eternity
in carvings in the sand

it’s the song that reminds us that even though
we stand dispersed beneath our sun
there’s a force that tethers us all to its words
and has turned our souls into one

each other

July 8, 2014 § 2 Comments

like a single raindrop
in a storm,
we fall quickly
in an unwavering path
rushing
toward what seems to be
the easiest ending
we blindly streak
through skies
and let gravity’s pull
control our speed
often forgetting
we’re one in a storm
of a million
all crashing and racing
toward the surface below
and never fully grasping
that when we reach
the hardened ground
we’ll need
a thousand others
to break our fall.
and a thousand others
will need us
to break theirs.

the man on 7th street

June 3, 2014 § 2 Comments

a mournful saxophone,
just one. its noise like a sermon
echoing above drunken yells
and tires treading. over the constant hum
of street lights and broken voices,
night after night, he plays. making loneliness
cry out into a crowded street of half-hearted
listeners, who sometimes toss him a smile
or a dollar, or two and then shuffle heels
across the concrete walk to catch their friends,
yelling about the a taxi. bar food. a lost wallet. what time it is.
and the man remains, alone and still,
sans his dancing fingers and heaving chest
loyally blowing lonely life into his instrument
filling the crowded air with ups and downs,
a mournful jazz hymn, showering
notes onto an unsuspecting crowd.
they yell about life,
but they may never actually stop to listen to it.

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