Through the Mist – Finding a way through opinions

“At night the fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.” 

– Erin Bow, Plain Kate

 

For times and times of multiplied times, I tip-toe through the water colored grays and whites of opinions fog, misty coverings over the truest paths. Stepping off my way, slipping on changing whims of irrelevant interventions, I draw blood, bleeding discouragement, marking my errant route. Sitting on rocks of stubborn pride, I bind the wounds of disillusionment. I sought a torch of brilliant revelation to guide me as the north star, with steady light, steady direction, and comfort in a sure way. What will I use as fuel for this flame that licks the mist from the air? My spirit, deeper than the mind, deeper than the soul, found in the stillness of my chamber, provides urns of truth that ignite my blaze of illumination. Confidently waving my baton of bright dancing tongues, plainly the path stands clear. Excuse my hasty advance past you idle players of hate and jealousy, I am committed to the summit of my life. See my flame high on this mountain, follow me you lost and wandering souls, we will climb above the clouds.

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Rain Drop

“Do not be angry with the rain; 

it simply does not know how to fall upwards.” 

― Vladimir Nabokov

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Why am I leaving my place of comfort, my mountain lake so clear and pristine?

Why am I flying higher and higher through places I’ve never been?

Why am I spinning in clouds so dark with rumblings fierce?

Why am I thrown to the ground in anger it seems?

Now I am being swallowed up by a young oak.

That was the reason for all my trial and discomfort. It was to give life…. 

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Pleasant Company – Nature’s brotherhood

“Our task must be to free ourselves… by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and it’s beauty.” – Albert Einstein

DMW Sager

Start off easy, morning sun, waves in the distance, crashing their applause. Wind tickles the leaves creating an uproar of green and brown laughter. The wind again, running through the boughs, skipping with childish delight from one branch to the next. Spotlights, sun breaking through the tropical canopy, like lights on a dance floor. The trees give up a few tired friends, they fall to the ground, a crackle, snap, and a crunch, their dieing cry. Some stubborn appendages hang on for dear life, rigor mortise has their woody fingers clinging to rebellion against nature’s whips. Through the clearing, a dark blue sea, a stark contrast to the subtle deep green and yellow new growth. Not to be forgotten even miles away from its brother forest, waves cheer back, their voice carried by the mediating wind. Peace my younger brothers, sing with exuberance at the arrival your visitor.