Pepper’d Memories

 

Yes — I was the walrus
so too the fool on the hill
I was the nowhere man
sometime I feel nowhere still

but when the Fab4 took the stage
and raised their voice in song
they roused my golden slumber
my spirit sang along

I strolled to strawberry fields
along sweet penny lane
and when miss Rigby died
I felt McKenzie’s pain

stowed in the submarine
and sailed beneath the waves
down with the octopus
among the coral caves

and when the sergeant
struck up his lonely hearts club band
I fell in step by step
to march off to Pepperland

but before I’d hit the road
I ended up wounded in my bed
a delinquent name of Maxwell
took a hammer to my head

he’d come through the bathroom window
I forgot to shut it tight
I should have known better
but it’d been a hard day’s night

my friends had called for help
doctor Robert came in time
I’d said doc don’t let down
he did not — and I feel fine

cops searched helter skelter
looked here there and everywhere
but they found clues for no one
I said let it be I didn’t care

leaving home, you won’t see me
I said heading out the door
when I saw her standing there
my lover from the night before

oh darling let’s go day trippin’
I want to hold your hand
down this long and winding road
it won’t be long to Pepperland

now we’ve come together here
me and my sweet belle Michelle
she’s been writing paperback novels
the kind the drugstores sell

we have no plans to get back
we’re swept up in the allure
of Lucy and her diamond skies
on our magical mystery tour

even with George and Johnny dead
that old magic’s not yet slipped away
because old Paully‘s discovered AI
so a brand new tune is on the way

it will be so very cool
to hear them once again
to remember those wondrous days
get to relive them now and then

*
rob kistner © 4/5/11
expanded version: rob kistner © 6/13/23

Poetry at: dVerse

 


https://youtu.be/oz3JlMhgfq0

Northwest Autumn

It is three weeks until Autumn Equinox 2022. I first wrote and published this piece in 2008, significantly revised it in 2018, sharing it again on dVerse in response to a wonderful prompt by Amaya Engleking. I now have further refined it in small ways, and choose to share it again here in 2022. Much has changed in the 14 years since I first wrote this, but not my love for the Pacific Northwest, and most especially — Oregon. It is in the light of this abiding love, that I now share this piece once more here on dVerse, for OLN, September 1st, 2022. Peace!

F73191A0-68C6-47D9-A8C6-5809E6E42C86

 
Autumn is upon us, as we enter our season of nature’s rest and replenishment here in the Pacific Northwest. The cycle of renewal will begin in western Oregon, where I lived for 25 years. I moved in 2015 to Seattle to be near my young grandson. Still immersed in Pacific Northwest beauty here, but Oregon will always hold my heart.

The summer’s dry period has ended, and agricultural irrigation has ceased. Harvesting explodes in October into November, including the grape harvest in our many vineyards. Following the gathering of this autumn bounty, the soil is left to recover. The fruit and nut trees, the vines in the vineyards, and the crop fields will begin the slow period of winter revitalization, in anticipation of the growing seasons to come in the new year. The Great Mandala of life turns steady. The rains that begin sporadically in late October, increasing into November, will work their magic — plumping Oregon’s world-class Christmas tree and holly crops, renewing the sparkle of these holiday icons, readying them for harvest.

Wild nature will also enter a period of recovery and renewal. The flowering plants that have dropped their petals, and the grasses and brush, gone late-summer golden, seek these nurturing rains. Mighty evergreens pause, conifers drop their cones, and deciduous trees shed their leaves all go dormant, and rest. The vast Northwest forests are enriched by this period of rejuvenation.

Streams, whose water levels have dropped considerably, will come to new life when rains begin to replenish their flow. Sockeye and Chinook salmon start their run upstream to begin their spawn. Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout, as well as numerous other species become active as waters rise and cool. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; the varied and plentiful wildlife of our region begin preparation for their unique winter rituals.

Autumn nudges into winter, a peaceful time of rest and restoration here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as the season of sky-water arrives to quench nature’s thirst, and revivify her energies in this utopia.

2DBE48D1-D83D-4264-BDAA-AA70DF8030B7

 
Just as the gardener
nurtures her tend
bending close
to nourish
and protect

so too nature stoops
to embrace
and refresh
her pacific northwest paradise

her autumn shadow upon the land
she leans down
and lets flow life-giving waters
to enrich this lush realm

she covers her beloved eden
in a soft blanket
of moist cloud

a shelter from chilled winter
to insure a rich bounty
when spring returns

abundant fruits
vegetables
and nuts

72EAC6E4-ED97-4ACE-B816-3028D8B86226

hill-climbing vineyards

towering trees
too numerous to imagine

endless grasses
bushes
berries
and flowers

all will be spring succulent
from buildiing winter waters

mountain streams
valley rivers
swell with migrating fish

FE8DCFC2-3B38-4BAF-84D8-F8E29EB677F7

as they journey home
up these fresh waters
of new birth

birds and animals
flock and gather
embraced by this season
of quiet replenish

in balanced step
and close harmony
with this cycle
they too
will welcome next spring
with plentiful new life

a sustaining love
this affair

life
nurtured to flourish
in the eventual spring

18EC9DB3-5C36-460D-97F4-9B63007C92BF
 
*

published: rob kistner © 2008
revised: rob kistner © 2018
final revision: rob kistner © 2022

* More poetry at: dVerse

photos (top to bottom):

  • Autumn at Multnomah Falls, Oregon
  • Oregon Autumn rain on conifer needles
  • Autumn at Sokol Blosser Vineyards, Willamette Valley Oregon
  • Sockeye salmon, Deschutes River, Oregon
  • Autumn Cascade Mountain Lake, Oregon
  • Spellbound

    poet
    you are enigma

    darkness and shadow
    you veil and shroud

    fire and light
    you burn and incandesce

    torch my essence
    burn deep my soul
    trouble my spirit
    unsettle my being

    then poet
    ignite my wonder

    whet my seeker’s vessel
    with need
    to be filled full

    poet
    at once familiar
    yet
    exotically foreign
    wonderfully strange

    wrongly boxed but
    exquisitely wrapped

    in angst
    indignation
    longing
    discovery
    loss

    in love

    with all these
    and infinitely more
    you reach an empty place
    deep within

    echoing my past
    awakening my myths

    exposing
    that which I embrace
    in the moment
    as truth

    refocus me

    stirring my pain
    my anger
    my loneliness

    my hope

    offering just enough answer
    that I combust with question
    sacred uncertainty

    I’m held
    suspended in inquiry
    in memories of neverwas

    enrapt by your careful words
    transfixed by mystery
    elevated by insight
    impaled by vision

    spellbound

    Frozen Man

    Vote = Voice — Speak Up! 2CC45105-E580-4197-9120-35D724A74CF8

    Voting HELP: CLICK HERE

     


    line art: “Frozen Man” — rob kistner © 2008

     

    Stopping Is No Option

    ~

    — QUADRILLE —

    Stopping is no option

    giving up
    is giving in
    grip letting go of dreams

    frozen is the frightened man
    withered in a worried cage

    happy is a voting man
    a hero heard and heeded

    stopping is no option
    for the times
    they are a’changin’

    rob kistner © 2020

    ~ ~

    — COMPLETE VERSION —

    * Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE

    Stopping is no option

    to lose the way is to keep going
    keep moving forward
    lest one atrophies
    rigid with despair
    paralyzed with doubt
    locked in hopelessness
    bound by fear

    the giving up
    is the giving in
    is the rot that sets
    with the loss of wonder
    when grip lets go of dreams

    loss of faith debilitates the soul
    cripples the manifest light
    that shines so bright
    at the leap into sacred uncertainty
    so bright
    as to boldly illuminate truth

    frozen is the frightened man
    withered in a worried cage

    terrified of the wrong step
    of the journey all in
    of daring the way unmarked

    wounded by fear
    bleeding out the color of life
    hemorrhaging joy
    exsanguinating possibility

    a cold brittled husk
    mired in regret
    for never having shone so brightly
    as to blind the eyes of death
    as to light the way of truth

    valiant is a voting man
    a hero heard and heeded
    a cry of dissatisfaction
    a voice of change
    a stand for defiance

    stopping is no option

    so senators and congressmen
    you best heed the call
    don’t stand in the doorway
    don’t block up the hall
    for they that will lose
    will be they who have stalled

    so brothers and sisters
    raise up your hand
    let it be known
    throughout the land
    if we want change
    we must take a stand

    NO
    stopping is no option

    for the times
    they are a-changin’

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2008
    revision © 2020

     

    https://youtu.be/wZ9drv78dCQ
     

    NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE

    That Velvet

    Vote = Voice — Speak Up! 2CC45105-E580-4197-9120-35D724A74CF8

    Sorry for this interruption. Feel free to ignore this section and move directly down to the poem, if you choose. The poem is much more sensual and dreamy. This first section is cold, no-filtered, stark reality — fully and sincerely expressed, as I see it. You see, I need to sum up my final, perhaps controversial thoughts, on the issue of protest, introduced here last Thursday. I have been slowly simmering since then: Love MUST win. My proud hippie soul tells me it can — it must for earth, and her human tribe to flourish. As naive and pollyanna as this may sound, I haven’t lived nearly 74 years believing that peace, love, and intelligence will find a way — to simply stand by and see these qualities of integrity snd dignity trampled beneath the feet of humankind’s baser instincts. Perhaps good people have turned the other cheek for too long. Maybe being passively resigned to the perpetraters of evil is not the way. Perhaps it requires an extreme natural culling of the tribe to remove the evil, the result of the arrogant stupidity of that group. Whether I should revel in that possibility is something my peaceful self has been truly struggling with the past few years — since the extinguishing of the Obama light. It goes against my nature. But the continuing greedy, destructive, and heartless ways must end, or perhaps be brought to an end. At my age and health, I, and most of my Aquarian generation, can’t, or won’t, effectively mount the resistance. We lack the stamina or money, or both. Too many among my generation, who may be capable, have lost the vision — turned during the mine-me-first Reagan 80’s, and the grab-fest in the years that followed. I feel we need responsible, strong young leaders to organize on a large scale, activate on a broad scale. It breaks my heart to say it — but me and my generation, we failed. Those who are coming after us, can’t afford to — or humankind and this great spaceship earth, truly are fucked! The power can belong to the young — take it, and wield it wisely! Sorry if I shocked or offended. Just the honest humble opinion of a tired old man. Not too tired to *** VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! ***

    ========================

    And now {{{deep breath}}} time for the poetic entertainment:

    ***

    …inspired by the Kate Bush video, “The Sensual World”…
    This is a 2nd revision of my original 2012 version.

    5E34F138-7537-4316-B60A-7C04A7D64423

     

    That Velvet

    ~

    would I were that velvet
    that she reaches for so fondly
    strokes with delicate pure fingers
    with soft silken hands she lingers

    embraces to her bosom
    wraps ’round her slender shoulders
    tingles with excitement
    as she surrenders to its touch

    would I were that velvet
    that drapes her lilting essence
    that falls and folds and fondles
    as she ascends the stairs each night

    the plush and luscious fiber
    that rises on her breasts
    with each soft and subtle sigh
    each deep impassioned breath

    oh would I were that velvet
    that glides her naked form
    on those sunset autumn evenings
    enwraps her perfect body warm

    that chills and thrills in shivers
    as she opens it ‘neath moonlight
    and swoons hushed smouldered gasps
    as she blooms forth firm and pleasured

    oh would I were that velvet
    would I were that velvet
    oh sweet sensuous angel
    would I were
    would I were

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012
    (revision © 2020)

     

    Open Link Night #275

    The Secret

    IMG_8614
    photo collage: “The Secret” — by: rob kistner © 1997

     
    The Secret

    ~

    from the dawn of awareness
    through the dark times
    beyond the ages of change
    into these times

    they have kept it
    the keepers of the secret

    and now
    with great fortitude of will
    to safequard frail truth
    they must keep it still

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019


     

  • Click for more dVerse poetry:

    Quadrille #91 – Keep

  • Time’s Window

    “This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“

    96A0D5B9-69EF-49DB-BE33-C1347DFE7938

    E280E402-14C8-4DF8-BE06-05995B79BDD1

    8406EEC5-F134-4D0F-AF92-19D3B1F79A86

     

    Time’s Window
    ~


    we now have a wonderful
    new Seattle home
    shared with family
    ruled by my little guy
    my precious 6-year-old grandson
    and I know sweet happiness

    but there are moments
    with eyes closed
    I can gaze back
    through time’s window

    I see my beloved Oregon home
    of 25 amazing years
    vividly alive this morning
    here in my memories…

    through my window this day
    I see the scurry of creatures
    warmed by the Oregon summer

    I hear nature
    in splendid voice

    the chuff
    of a tree’d red squirrel

    the song
    chirp
    and trill of birds

    chickadee
    goldfinch
    western bluebird
    and others

    fly
    flutter
    and flit

    in a flash of orange
    a striking northern flicker
    momentarily eschewing insects
    is peck peck pecking
    cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
    that spill from our feeder

    a red-tailed hawk
    calls
    from atop a Sitka spruce
    swaying
    in the crisp blue sky

    the muffled belling of a deer
    wandering the safety of old-growth
    whispers
    through the foothills

    the distant bark
    of a neighbor’s dog
    echoing the basin
    up along our stream
    reminds me
    we have friends nearby

    my wife’s
    gentle laughter
    validates the friendship

    her tender smile
    validates our love

    the rustle of leaves
    stirred by the breeze
    wafting through the valley

    smartly punctuated
    by the staccato
    of conifer cones
    that fall
    from time to time
    wrested free by chickaree
    and chipmunk
    chattering high in Douglas fir
    busy with their forage

    wap wap wap

    they bounce off our roof
    striking the ground

    closely followed
    by the scamper
    of their liberators
    crunching their way
    to the heart-meat of the cone
    the delicacy
    that elicits this furious industry

    drifting in the window
    intoxicating fragrances

    cedar
    pine
    fir

    lily
    rose
    lilac

    grasses
    loam
    and more

    a rich
    earthy bouquet

    caught in my reverie
    I breathe in
    deeply
    to suddenly remember

    …I’m not in my Oregon home
    I am in my new Seattle home
    and it’s filled to overflowing
    with family
    and love

    for a moment
    I do not open my eyes
    I linger a bit longer
    in my beautiful dream
    of my Oregon

    my heart will forever be there
    but we will likely never go back
    not until my ashes are spread
    high in the Cascade Mountains
    on Mt. Hood
    across breathtaking Lost Lake

    but here
    now
    on this day
    filled with memories
    and joy
    a solitary tear
    falls

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019


     
    This new write was a remarkably mind purifying write for me. Click to see how others are purifying their minds on dVerse:

    Poetics- Purifying the Mind

     

  • Click to check out the haps at Toads
  • Aeropachydermicide

    Aeropachydermicide: recklessly causing the death of someone or something by actions that result from the foolish belief that one is so smart and powerful that one can make an elephant fly.

     

    Aeropachydermicide

  • Debunking the ridiculous theory of human dominion.
  • ~

    somewhere between our petrochemical insanity
    and our reckless dance with fractured atoms
    we believed we were the miracle
    and it all went seriously awry

    we fantasized we had dominion
    that we understood the vast unknown
    could control the raw chaotic
    that we had figured out the why

    so we delved into dark science
    with no regard for frail nature
    flailed our way across the planet
    belched our leavings into our sky

    we so bought into our egos
    that we perceived ourselves as gods
    that we were capable of anything
    perhaps make the elephant to fly

    but we humans lost sight of balance
    did not comprehend our place
    as only one of precious many
    we let the tipping point slip by

    now we wonder what will happen
    to our misbegotten dream
    stare through disbelieving tears
    as we watch it slowly die

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 10/3/11
    revised © 2019


     

  • Click below to check out more poetry at dVerse:

    Poetic: Theories of Everything and Anything


     

  • Check out more poems on Toads

     

    35C6DAEF-40AA-452C-885C-C373E1DE84F6
    Hi! I’m Edgrrr, rob’s shih tzu.

  • The Gift


     
    The Gift

    ~

    unworthy fool am I

    to ignore it
    to abuse it
    to mistreat it
    to misuse it
    to mishandle it at every turn

    no way am I deserving

    yet over and over
    you lay it at my feet
    to protect each step
    on life’s harsh road

    time after time
    you wrap it round me
    as shelter
    from sorrow’s storm

    again and again
    it nurtures and sustains me
    on my journey through
    the wastelands of the lonely

    this light
    this precious treasure

    no way do I deserve
    but forever will I cherish
    your soul gift
    of selfless love

    would I could give you
    such a gift in return
    it would be my purest
    my most unselfish gift

    a gift golden as the sun
    tied in a tinsel of stars
    to nurture you always
    to keep you radiant

    my most precious gift
    of a love supreme

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019

     

    32AD0E85-B0A5-4D6D-B19A-E51CD04E0C53DAY 7

    And So

    “sweet memories of my youth”

     

    And So

    ~

    and so
    I think of her
    and wonder

    what was the fire
    that burned so bright
    and raged so fierce
    as to consume complete

    our essence
    left embered char
    smoldered ashen

    that in its heat
    and fury
    could not sustain

    back I drift
    to fall upon
    the tenderness of youth

    the satin skin
    the comely gaze
    the velvet touch

    a silken voice
    rising
    to lust and longing

    to impatience

    to immortality

    its soulful siren
    so seductive
    the nectar of all forbidden

    the breathless joy
    of sweet innocence

    when the wonder
    stirs to every mystery
    and the spirit lights
    to every spark

    igniting passion’s pyre

    to leave one spent
    in blissful ruin
    at story’s end

    tender memory
    of the throaty whispers
    of promised pleasures
    sweetly secreted
    in her virgin kiss

    and so
    I think of her

    remembering
    with no regret

    savoring the subtle linger
    harbored in my heart
    of the taste
    of her lips

    long ago
    at seventeen

    ~ ~

    “lips lush as cognac
    open softly to kisses
    urgently linger”

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2019)

    ________________

    23749CC2-151F-4BDE-BA62-BC76B9234D39

     
    click here to read more poetry at dVerse

    Clarion Stones

  • revised for Lillian at dVerse Poet’s Pub


     
    Clarion Stones

    ~

    all those years ago
    in the time of dangers
    they were placed in secret
    as a silent beacon
    in that deepest night

    waiting for the day
    when the shadowed world
    would waken from the nightmare
    shed its narrow petty ways
    and embrace the way of light

    stacked by those of vision
    blessed in hope and courage
    one upon the other
    like knowledge upon learning
    these standing stones of peace

    hear them call across the ages
    and beckon us to rise
    to step into the future
    to envision a new dream
    to let fear and hatred cease

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 1/22/19)


    67F4B295-9233-407D-934F-9CA3C5A2B3F5
    stacked stones in Sedona red-rock desert

    _______________________

    These sculptures are called cairns. A cairn is a human-made balanced stack of stones. The word cairn comes from the Scottish Gaelic: càrn. Cairns have been, and still are used for a broad variety of purposes, from prehistoric times to the present. They are stacked as landmarks, direction finders, memorials, and also spiritual reasons, among other purposes.

  • Check out more shedding at dVerse:

    Shed some light on this today!

  • Hope

  • For society to have a real chance we need quality education!

    IMG_8584

     
    Last Hope

    ~

    I lift myself quietly
    very quietly
    from beneath the sheets
    soiled with neglect
    soaked with my nightmares

    I am again awake
    from another dark night
    that began with fear
    fear I might not survive
    and ends in sorrow
    realizing I did

    I rise
    make my way carefully
    past the shallow-breathed crumple
    that lay milky-eyed
    in a heap on the floor
    un-moving
    save a twitch of the head

    a head which now harbors demons
    where nocturnal angels of sweet release
    had lain down lush upon it
    in fevered embrace
    lustfully conjured
    by last night’s spoon and lance
    still skewered silver in the soured vein

    this wreckage is my mother

    I stop but for a glance
    verifying life
    then move on head down
    angle to the bathroom
    to the scum-brown bowl
    to wash my face
    lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
    that hangs bare and lonely

    strange eyes
    hold me in the mirror
    broken as my heart

    eyes of knowing
    eyes of sadness

    grief courses through me
    weighing upon my being
    burning into my heart

    I want to cry out
    but there is no one here to hear me
    no hero that can help me

    driven by instinct to survive
    by urgency to flee
    I shudder away the paralyzing despair

    in this dank food-less morning
    in this ruined single room
    in this coat-less chill of predawn
    I gather up my books
    step lightly through the door
    down the damaged stairs
    into the hostile streets
    heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams

    I duck and dodge
    in and out of shadows
    praying to once again avoid the evil
    that lurks and slinks
    among the garbage and graffiti
    of these crumbled bricken’d canyons

    that rolls slow and lethal
    gripping cold blue steel
    in predatory drive-by

    evil
    seductive as a smile
    deadly as a snake

    evil
    which if diligence should fail
    I fear will consume my soul

    deliberately I continue
    until at last I find my way
    to the building
    to the classroom
    to my teacher
    to my desk

    to the only hope
    to which I dare cling

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011
    (revision © 2019)

    ___________________________

    Click to learn more about toad’s social awareness

  • Daredevil’s Dread

     

    Daredevil’s Dread

    ~

    to be shot from a cannon
    into the cool night air
    is really no big deal

    to face a barrage
    of flying knives
    isn’t really that unreal

    to leap through the fire
    of a flaming hoop
    the warmth is kind’a nice

    jumping giant chasms
    on two-wheeled fury
    sure – let’s do it twice

    to be blown up
    in a speeding car
    sort’a turns me on

    falling 20-story
    from a skyscraper
    I’m up over and gone

    riding upside down
    on an airplane wing
    it’s the only way to fly

    the high trapeze
    without a net
    I wouldn’t bat an eye

    buried alive
    in a padlocked tomb
    count 10 and I’ll cheat death

    chained in steel
    tossed in the sea
    no need to hold my breath



    the sphere of fear
    the dome of doom
    the bungee-cord freefall

    to walk blazing coals
    swallow deadly swords
    no sweat — I’ve done them all

    almost nothing scares
    this bold daredevil
    I am very proud to say

    save the single thing
    of which I’m terrified

    to give my heart away



    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revised © 2018)

    ____________________________________

  • top 2 photos: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus
  • bottom photo: source unknown
  • Life is Duality


    IMG_8613

     

    Life Is Duality

    ~

    on catching a glimpse of the Great Mystery

    I sometimes get very dark
    my emotions get brittle
    and heavy
    an anger at life swells

    every time I dig deep enough
    be it on my own
    or in counseling
    I come up against two constants

    things I cannot change
    but have left a most indelible mark

    one unfolded
    over a horrendous period
    of my early years

    the other
    happened in a horrible flash
    during my mid-life

    both so horrific
    they changed forever
    my humanity

    try as I do
    their darkness still surfaces
    and in those moments
    my inner light gets smothered

    but I will never stop facing them down
    ferociously
    when I feel their chilled grip

    that is what life is
    keeping the good fight
    and embracing
    with love and gratitude
    the beauty we have also been given

    and we have been given so much
    so amazing

    life is duality
    life is balance
    the keeping of it
    and the regaining of it
    when it’s lost

    and it DOES get lost
    at times
    very lost

    but life is an awesome opportunity
    an experience of the profound
    and mysterious

    the mystery we are not meant to solve
    but rather
    to celebrate
    with grace and wonder

    peace to all
    may love touch all of our lives
    for love is the gateway
    to the great mystery

    as John
    one of our last
    great
    modern prophets said

    love is all you need
    and in the end
    the love you take
    is equal to the love you make

    so find your lover
    and make love
    with great freedom
    abandon
    gratitude

    and the power of the spheres

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2013

    Perception’s Window


    artwork by Jack Vettriano

     

    Perception’s Window

    ~

    we are infinite beings
    awaking slowly
    from some infinite place

    our coming to be
    unknown to us as any mystery
    our essence an enigma

    learned in stories
    in waiting relationships
    gradually we open to our identity

    awareness dawns
    like the rising of a newborn sun
    breaking on our window of perception

    we feel its warmth
    and flow effortlessly into timelessness
    as though immortal

    we see not over the horizon
    for we see no horizon
    but limitless eternity

    we comprehend no end
    immersed only in the now
    given of our origin

    it is therein exists the miracle of life
    we are infinite beings in this moment
    dreaming to sustain the moment

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012