These days of seeking the death of the ego,

Putting to rest the I that says I blank,

Seeing the miraculous in the mundane where we go,

While filling the proverbial tank.

These days of seeking the wink on the horizon,

That speaks more than words ever could,

Seeing the old give way to the new and wisen,

Knowing time’s experience brings the understood.

These days of staying up until its early,

Formulating the loss and hurt into words,

Waking up, walking to the door surly,

Only to discover three little birds.

These days that dreams die before us,

Only to join that river of hope,

Knowing the idea of giving more was,

Careening off that slippery slope.

These days of perceived elegance in the dust bowl,

Of palpable beauty that transcends the bloody mud,

Give way to speechless slices of time’s toll,

Complete awe, and the emotional flood.

Forgive me.

Learn to live with me.

World, I see you,

Moreso, you see that I am merely half a drop,

Attempting to collect with others

In a dogged puddle until the next rain washes us

All away.

These days the all is gaining,

The I is waning,

The brags fall short,

And the to do lists grow.

These days amidst the fast pace that begs noticing,

The revolutionary thought runs slow.

Stillness and quiet,

Kill this need to riot and destroy,

And replace it with and need to create and to love.

These days I breathe with my eyes closed,

Feeling the shine on my face,

The self becomes faulty and super imposed,

And I am left weeping with grace.

Good night you country boys of the old confederacy,

You kings of dominion!

These days give way to evenings and mornings again,

Eventually to death alone.

These days words seem incomplete,

And action seems overgrown.

Compassionate thought fills second story windows,

Humility can keep the basement from the flood.

And the sinew in you can begin those

Days to come with exuberant life in the blood.