IN SHADOWS  (1-17-2003, 4:00am, Galveston Island, Texas)

tree shadows
are spirit expressions
reflections of trees
peaceful souls
silent shadows
passed through
along my way
sensed in every
fleeting shade
which falls
upon my skin
or on this
passing road below
sweet embrace
subtle touch
some gentle love
unknown
in each
of those brief
moments
i realize
for a second
how everything
in this world
is touching
something else
as earth orbits
in silent grace
around constant sun
with such speed
and force
yet all we
sense
of its constant
movements dance
are the recyclic
comings and goings
turnings and phases
of its radiantly
luminous
moon and sun
and in
the continuous flow
of variable winds
and time
upon
and all around
her conscious
living  
spinning form
in whose currents
we can see
ever changing
shapes of clouds
and those we
can sense
and feel
at times
within ourselves
as well
in whose
subtle lessons
continuous  
reflective spell
we can daydream
further still
in stolen moments
beyond our minds
beyond ourselves
indeed beyond
mankinds false
illusory sense
of time
of space
and egoic mind
of self
and being
itself
some evidence
and measurement
of our eternal
souls
collective
sense of growth
as each of our
lives
spin on
and on
where we each
and all
are either
lost or found
within our own
temporal blindness too
along our journeys
wildest of rides
through boundless space
yet so few
seem
to ever fully
realize
the true meaning
of our place
here in the
awesome dance
of this living
universe
yet
in the way
we perceive ourselves
and choose
to live out
our lives
we each create
our own little
worlds
within this world
that spin on
intently
in their orbits
around and beyond
all these blinding
minor
inner suns
of our own
insignificant
finite  little egos
in which
so seldom
do we ever
pause enough
to truly see
the broader view
which lies
both before
in between
and far beyond
our superficial
circumstantial
narrow scopes
attention spans
to look more
closely
into our lives
to ever truly
see beyond
the surface of
all this increasingly
fractaling madness
nor to read
more closely
between the lines
to hear
the message
so fearfully hidden
in each
and every wounded
human heart
in which to look
to sense
to feel
to find
buried deep therein
each and every
one of them
of you
of me of us
the true
transcendent
sacredness of life
in everyone
in everything
in all
that is both
part and parcel
in its sacred
inseparable oneness
with all that
is
with divine
ineffable source
to laugh
to cry
to sleep
to wake
to more fully
live
to more deeply
dream
this world
our world
from what
it is
into what it
could and can
still yet become
an ever
more beautiful
ever more
wondrously harmonious
heavenly place
and realm
in which
all life
all beings
all things
all hopes
all dreams
in balance and
peace
in love
may naturally flourish
and more vibrantly
live
dream on
some say
wake up
i respond
for no matter
however bad
broken  lost
or seemingly hopeless
anyones life
may seem
be or feel
at times
its never
too late
but too late
now
to not
seek out
to find
ones own
to find
your own
essential  inevitable
reawakenings
time alas
has finally come
as its radiant
innermost dawn
at some point
will hopefully
gently awaken
to permanently
arise
in you
until you yourself
become
your own forever
transformational
sun
whose all healing
light
can touch
fill and heal
all else
everyone
and everything
both in
and beyond
this and all
worlds
within the true
oneness
of all
that is
then suddenly
i realized
whilst lost
in the midst
of all these
spontaneously released
spilled thoughts
of organically
arisen reflections
which arose
on their own
as i rode
with my invisible
friend
the wind
as far down
this late afternoon
length
of northwest
wind blown
palm trees
shadow splattered
dancing ghosts
miles long
silent stretch
of coastal road
along this
broad  vast  open
dancing gulf
endlessly beside me
as i could
where in
one brief moments
pause
i thought i
heard within its
vital
ethereal song
the faintest
inner whispering
though not that
of these coastal
winds
seductively singing
me onward
as far as
i could go
until the glorious
sun sank
too low
with its warm
loving touch
still sensuously
basting my
hungry flesh
and its radiant
golden memory
still lingering
in me now
i could not
quite figure out
nor tell
just what it
precisely
was trying to
tell me
until several hours
later this night
while deep asleep
in bed
here at four
a m
i seemed to
faintly hear
or sense within
again
the feather soft
still lingering voices
of all those
palm tree shadows
i rode
and passed right
over
and through
earlier
this now
long gone
wind swept
gulf coast
golden sunset
afternoon
still softly whispering
to me
stretched out calmly
here
in my sleeping
head
though their words
are still not
clear
i still seemed
to sense
their subtle message
as the still
echoing
mysterious voices
of their deeply
soothing
indiscernible
wind blown words
now delicately
blow
through my awareness
again
here in the
nest
of my presently
pillowed
dreaming head
i somehow sensed
them
trying to simply
tell me
in their ghostly
wind blown way
that hidden
within each shadows
comforting realm
new poems
may naturally arise
and come
even when i
least
expect them
like gentle dawns
themselves
like ghosts congealed
into diaphanously
visual
worded form
arisen in silence
to either be
found or not
freely mined
applied  shared
and lived
but mostly  
whether their meaning
can be
deciphered or not
by me or
anyone else
i now can
more clearly
and easily sense
that despite
all my best
intuited guesses
its probably more
important
that whenever
and wherever
i am or
may be
when i hear
their faint winds
slipping around
into
and through me
touching
and filling my
senses
with the call
and elusive presence
of their subtle
songs
that i simply
let them out
in whatever
fitting words
they may bring
to release them
to set them
free
for myself
and anyone else
who may see
or read them
to also sense
hear and feel
them
in the mysterious
inner languaged ways
they come to
sing
their resonant
lingering songs
through me
as this filter
it seems
i have
become
for them
through which
some other vicarious
visually visceral
impressionistically
interpreted sense
of their otherwise
mostly invisible
presences
essence
of their moving
ethereal songs
can gestate
through some strange
metamorphosis
into whatever
unique
new form
my innermost muse
when so inspired
might choose
to clothe them
in
to be born
again
from what they
naturally are
into something
even more
to reflect upon
or to be
considered
in a somewhat
different light
or way
even if
for no other
purpose
nor reason
than to release
in its creative
rebirth
the somewhat compulsive
lifelong need
for me
to release
all this
echoing afterbirth
of my own
faint  ghostly
inner breezes
lingering songs
like fallen footprints
left behind
as evidence
and skeletal artifacts
of my own
peculiarly strange
prolonged
mysterious lifes
long journey
here
till gone
again
alone