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Poem

EARTH CHANTS

I dream and stare out my window,
windblown leaves, scars and troubles
blow like fluff from dandelions, settling
inside my shadow....hung upon my
memory-wall, reflecting moon dust
far from Heaven, out upon this shapeless
poem, buried deep within my soul...

Songs, the minstrels trusted from before,
can only be heard at low tide, as crabs
scurry atop their barren bones.... sea shells
speak of my future, If I listen quietly, but,
 there is no sound, only echoes from the earth....

Cloisters of Monks chant to processions of ants
as centuries dim, captured in sorrows, even as 
the tall grasses sway in song, remembering the
journey through the endless mist, of the river
that never ends...

Sightless snakes snap their warnings to heaping
piles of gold the minions of mayhem mock in
worship, ignoring the chasm greed creates...

Soon, the stinging nettle will understand the
 painless path, and I will boil their roots, and
 feed them to the venomous snakes, then
 burn the bridge that leads to torment...

I can still hear the chants of the Elders,
calmly nurturing the coming season of change,
content once more, as stars smile upon
our future, and seeds, sown before our time,
bear fruit as told by our chosen ones....

Chants forever heard....

              chants

                     forever

                             heard

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