The quiet shift between spaces

silence waiting like a dying bloom captured

pressed for saving then forgotten

till found in the days of tomorrow.

Turning one into another as chapters move

like ghosts from thoughts of another drifting through

the space of time and thought

caught up between the dark and light.

Eyes linger over the edges of letters

following like the train tracks into the horizon

knowing it leads to a destination unknown,

eagerly waiting to find the scenery

ever-changing as moments roll by.

There is always something hanging unseen

dancing between the faded parchment

dreams inspired in the empty air

as it is subtly moved with each flick of fingers,

solid held and energy felt

flowing through with the scent of history

embedded in the bridge and cover

a story of itself untold.


We stir the sediment

raising the fragments to the surface

under sunlit horizons trickling down

resting below the edge

on the bottom of the mind.

Clarity moves in while we linger

lost in idle conversation the clearing begins

smooth rippled awareness changes

the way we see through

the darkness.

Silken flow of thought

focused and secure in its richness

golden waves make the sweetest of memories

as the clutter moves out of view

and the goodness rises to greet

the open heart.

Seeing through the surface to forever

aware of each breath and emotion,

slumbering thoughts awakened

something so easy

when finally grasped like water falling through

cleansing the palette of a parched soul.


My mind is lost in clouds of bliss

in a land where the silence of emptiness rings on air

and the softness of peace cocoons the soul.

Manic moves come to abrupt endings

and I stand on the edge of the reflections

wondering what it is I now see within.

Lost at times yet still searching,

wandering the mind like a bohemian child,

the lost chord is waiting to be found

and the bells of the winds beckon to follow.

I need to be here in this place

where endless skies kiss the peaceful water

edged by land that left no prints behind,

forging forward to the destiny and faith

breathing in the slivers of dryness

parched lips sing hymns of patience

and set free the song of a time of believing.

I come to ask the clouds for their wisdom,

the drops of harmony and life-giving measure

caught in a cup and sipped slowly,

savored for the life force it gives.

beautiful image found at;

Barest thought

In the quiet of a morning caught

the spellbinding sight of a rising sun

caught whispering to the soul

caressing the mind with thoughts of a day to come.

Eyes find their way through dream states,

memories of lingering images like wallpaper

strung up on the walls to see

moving through the museum of surreal things

we touch the fabric of that which we cannot name.

Resting on the tip of tongue

we hesitate perhaps a moment too long,

and watching as it fades from sight

the mirage ghost-like and cherished

then silently let go.

Who are we in these moments,

caught between wake and sleep

in Neverland worlds of beauty we wander

thoughts tracing words on invisible pads

and indigo ink mark our passage

lest we forget where we had been

on our return to those foreign lands,

as the clouded gate creaks with age

we gentle push forward and enter

the place where thoughts sit waiting

remembered once more.


Shades of gray

Paper mache thoughts
staircase of memory moving in skies of the mind,
he cuts out the stars they say
building his universe piece by piece,
and hanging the brightest
slightly shrouded in mystery
behind a veil of emotion.
Water winds its way through to find
his toes cautiously testing to find
hot or cold
as he leaves the ripples behind
he watches them undulate into
the common answering wave,
as they slip together along the seam
becoming one they move
in and out from source.
He paints to live
in this world of pain,
wracked by unanswered questions,
he knows where his sail is moving
as he coasts along in the playground of mind,
cutting shapes
he puts them together like his worries on a shelf,
one at a time he stares at them all,
knowing it feels like never enough-
he looks for the guiding star he had lost
to find it resting quietly waiting
where he had always left it,
tucked into the heart.

Cloaked in color

We are what we are

cloaked in the colors we choose to wear

hues to mark the emotion we feel

wrapped tight in the comfort of our choice.

We hold it about us, becoming all we desire-

manifesting the persona we long to be,

draped in the fabric of the lives we live.

Who do we become,

when we slip away for a while into the edges,

the places where there are no faces,

no reflections to mar-

no standard we are set up to be,

just the quiet solitude that comes

when we step aside and sit awhile-

contemplating our todays and the meaning

of each feeling that cascades like silk,

moving over us like a curtain shuts out the light.

We rest here in the crook of this place,

poised on the edge of darkness we peer in-

hoping to see just a little bit more

to feel a little bit more than this cavernous echoing place,

we remain until ready-

and we push aside the ties that bind,

unwrapping our hearts as we cautiously peer about-

knowing that the colors have become

just a small fragment of ourselves,

and our thoughts rush naked into the void

slipping through the cracks where the light still shines,

and emerging from the cocoon of life

decked in our finest selves,

eager to become a part of it all once more.


a Mind Set Free

We bounce about in our bliss,
charting courses throughout the cosmos
things we see in our minds,
and dreams we know we were meant to create,
to fulfill and see through to completion.
We listen to our history
straining against the ties that bind,
that stunt the factor of longing,
to touch the sky
we only need fly,
but first we must try.

Voices from across the miles
tears and smiles
we gather like flowers in vases
knowing in vain they too shall pass,
like the thoughts that we carry,
the heavy sacks of guilt given,
yet to set aside
takes strength inside
and as we walk away we know
the way which we shall go.

I hear his voice in my mind,
songs of yesterday mellow and mild,
remembering the passion felt
on discovery of a rhythm new,
how I could never explain to you
the need to be free
and the years now passed
I don’t know where I’ve been,
but the distractions aside
and living beyond the inside
the soul has gone free
from it’s jar on the shelf,
and there’s no stopping now
when the clock is set in motion,

She sits beyond the dunes,
somewhere out there
walking in the rippled sand
by an ocean moving like only it can,
it calls to her gently
come move with me,
we will float on waves of blue
charting our course,
me and you.

Steve Winwood is stirring my thoughts tonight, as I said my goodbyes to the book of face community, devoting time to what to me is imperative and formost, achieving my goals without distraction of drama and aimless activity. A quote from the song haunting me this fine evening, blasts from the past not forgotten. Forgive the mispellings as the ipad of yesterday has no check….but eh, I’m not too worried, it is what it is, elements of me untamed by the dictionary…..Life is too short to be mired by nitpicked grammar….ha! Still smiling, one day down, a lifetime to go💎💫✨

“If you see something that looks like a star
and it’s shooting up out of the ground
And you just can’t escape from the sound
Don’t worry too much, it’ll happen to you
We were children once, playing with toys…

If you had just a minute to breathe and they granted you one final wish
Would you ask for something like another chance?
Or something similar as this? Don’t worry too much
It’ll happen to you as sure as your sorrows are joys.

But spirit is something that no one destroys.”
Steve Winwood- Traffic….the low spark of high heeled boys

Words of light

Your words are a thousand rainbows

shining light into the windows within

reaching my soul in its revere

finding its mark

and creating beauty.

I sift through the pieces of days

searching for a thought lost along the way

and somewhere I hear singing

as if the heavens in their splendor

are calling to my being

believe in this moment

hold tight the joy.

I flow as if I am water on the shore,

moving in and out to the rhythm of the ocean

as Luna pulls the tides to caress

I know the soul of the mermaid

as she whiles away in her corals

her touch upon the fabric of life

beauty and bounty the gift

as sun reaches through the prism

the colors spark the view

of magnificence.

We will become what we perceive

as it bursts forth from somewhere within

out of the darkness it shall break free

and the dance of a thousand stars will thrill

as I lie below feeling a part of the whole,

content in the knowing of that which I am.

I am light and I am peace.

Garden of souls

Did we know then as we moved through the darkness

searching for the light with each day that passed,

our vines reaching

twining in and amongst the hardness of the world,

never allowing anything to put up a wall

to our destiny

that we would be in this here and now?

How we began so small,

tender stems reaching for the sun

as if it meant death to relax a spell

that we would be torn apart and trampled upon

ground into the earth

to begin once more

before seeds could be planted ensuring

all of the tomorrows that would be.

Emotion and thought become leaves

that begat flowers of quiet grace

that decorate the landscapes of our human minds

and somewhere within

there lies this amazing power that gives growth its chance,

we rise and rise a bit more

curving round through each instance

creating a secret garden of the soul

tended and cultivated to become

the entrance to forever.

We wind and move

push and pull our ways out of the despair

to find that bit of sunlight that waits patiently

and around us, the angels watch from afar

guiding us to the destination

we grow strong and live in joy for our moment

and with the coming of the moon,

curl around to sleep until the light rises again

and we can dance on the whispering wind,

delicate and silent in our garden

we will dream of eternity

as beautiful as the stars that sing lullabies

to our vain petal ears.

We will move in and amongst

these walls we create,

although some will reach outward and away

with leaves reaching towards the sky,

wayward vines catching all that move by

they too hold their purpose

to go higher and farther than imagined

and leaving behind those that can only dream

clinging to their arbors

afraid to make that leap,

and in doing so, wind and twist and wonder

never able to realize how high is the sky?



Picking pieces

We gather our semblance of finds,

Pieces of blue to match

Each mood that drifts through rooms

Like ghosts who speak

To those in tune to knowing.

We re-arrange them to suit

An image that soothes when wild winds blow,

That may bluster like a caterpillar,

Inching along waiting to become.

There is no glass for reflection found in the sea

As treasure becomes scarce we rely on relics,

Simple pieces that have meaning perhaps to

Just a solitary soul,

Who holds them close

And feels the history


Are our eyes closed when they should see

What lays before the vision suspended

As we duck below

Circumnavigating once more

Taking the long way home

To find the peace we know resides

Behind the shuttered shades of the mind,

Knowing the solace that lingers like a wayward hobo artist,

Snipping and crafting the words that sting

In their mark

We know the prophecy is no longer hidden,

Yet still scarcely known

Except by the silent one who asked for nothing

And was given the world

And I smile content for understanding,

For to acknowledge is to show weakness

Or that was what had been told,

And we are all different,

Like bits of glass gathered,

Collected in porcelain bowls of beauty,

Yet still considered broken

By those who see no wealth,

No recognition of value

That is always priceless

To some,

A cache of everything to one.