A Bird

A bird flying in the sky can see both sides of a wall,
Distracted by a shiny object it lands,
Only one side of that wall is now revealed.

Written by Chris Towle

One

Every action is another brush stroke on the painting presented to us; regardless of its mediocrity
and monotony, every moment’s precious; every monotonous moment is momentous. I feel
fantastic. I feel tremendous. Even if the world’s horrendous and every conflict is contentious,
i know that i am not alone as conscientious. This is not action or reaction but a communion of
dancing, an energetic exchange of distraction compacted to One. Be it friction or fractions or a
thousand nations shredded by guns, or the sand in the sea or water drops on a beach or a trillion
billion suns, or a million mothers for one living son we are One.

Written by Andrew Brobyn

Civility

Cheddar cheese and raspberries,
grated over lettuce leaves,
cherry trees a garden breathes
a mist before a freeze.
Soft memories, antiquity I do bereave,
and yet not grieve.
I am bereft yet have love left. And nary will I leave.

Written by Andrew Brobyn

But Who Leads These Thoughts

Confusion mixed with desire and subtly
A dangerous mix indeed
To fight even after loss, such a noble deed
worthy of whatever scraps that can be found on the floor
Or do quit before an impending loss, ah the mundane question and word
quit, such negativity but with a powerful meaning fitting any context it wishes
Is it so bad to quit if you already know you’ve lost?
Or to trek on the glorious path to places forbidden only to be shut out from its graces and glory?
Isn’t it more wasteful to do such a thing,
Or to continue along a sloping path of distress but you know that if you tried the other you would have to
face the fire head on?
And quite possibly never return the same
Why fight so so hard in return for petty rewards that fails in comparison to your original wishes?
To journey so far, cross every border you've ever known and never reap your enduring desires?

Yet still the small chances hook you, by your mind and soul
Tearing and ripping at every passing wave but still you stay holding on
Why, why? There must be a reason, a divine one at that
But who can assume the word of the Lord, and what he has in store
At least a sign must be given, a small chance at salvation, glory and happiness
Yet nothing,
Why?
I must be fixed or thrown out that is the thesis of life

But who leads these thoughts
Ones that march with certainty and fiery desire,
only to be extinguished by such a fragile chance at salvation

Chances that I can taste so pure,
But so poisonous is this supplement
Running through my veins infecting every inch after inch of my body
Waiting to strike at the perfect moment it slithers
Ay there it is, A twist, a twist of reality that leaves my soul carved
Exhausted, waiting for life to quench these empty holes

Again, it leaves, maybe to come back another time?
To once again shatter everything I have thought of,
the perfect salvation
Or does it finally leave this god-forsaken body and attach its self to another victim
Tis not happened yet, it always, always seems to return as strong as ever

written by Brett Leslie