Little Pillars

They say, there is a ghost in every house. And, if we make peace with it. IT will remain quiet.

-Vietnamese Proverb

These pillars seemingly in the way.

Built on purpose.

Layered out in a definitive service.

To this restless soul,

it appears as a shelter without a circus.

So, well-traveled traveler,

What do these markers matter?

Earthed centuries,

past cast caskets,

campfire stories,

fading fast.

Indeed a tell-tale sign to history’s androgynous mask.

A sometime headstone’s snippet of sage advice…

whilst strolling down memory lane.

Vacancy, granite posts, and, monochrome plains.

The dead tell no lies.

The dead have nothing to hide.

A daydream within a dream

Cry the Languid

Sometimes, I wonder too much…if I wonder too much.  Live life within a dream.  Or, at least, a daydream.  

How lucky am I?  To look up, as well as, down.

As if my grievance with nature is that of anxious inspiration.

As if these walks were cheap snippets of temptation.

“You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.”
Edgar Allan Poe

Changing Direction

“Alas,” said the mouse, “the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into.”
“You only need to change your direction,” said the cat, and ate it up.” #Kafka

the Smallest of Convictions

I drink you in, as though, there be no end.

I ache your ailing spirit, as though, it were mine.

If I were set upon a lost ocean…

Whatever you found to be amiss…I would find.

Lover, it hurts so, when your world…

Resigns to the being of…unkind.

Tomorrow will come and take us away.

Import us to the blues.

Retrieving each soul, as though we were never one.

In the deepest of my smallest conviction…

With all of infinity…

I will understand…

We have only just begun!

Lone Chair

The lone chair is everywhere.

Is it only for the lonely?

Traveled the countryside, in search of the deserted, solo seat.

Thru leaf and fallen shafts of wheat.

And, in due course, not a single one would speak.

As the multifaceted traveler, I had to interpret what I was after.

Thus, I took the chair offered me.

It was then that the chill in my bones subsided.

And, the words of, ‘alone’ but ‘not lonely’ collided.