I recall the yelling but silent voice of winter
that broken December when the lights from
lanterns shot up from their wicks with the
fading strength of departing glows abroad.
Twilights hastened through the spine of
receding days, halting the approach of a
wayward Christmas.
The wilderness around us yielded froths from a
puking snowstorm,
fastening laces of Hell with strings of abundant
sleet.
I recall the yelling but silent voice of winter
that broken December when the lights from
lanterns shot up from their wicks with the
fading strength of departing glows abroad.
Twilights hastened through the spine of
receding days, halting the approach of a
wayward Christmas.
The wilderness around us yielded froths from a
puking snowstorm,
fastening laces of Hell with strings of abundant
sleet.
In the wilderness of bewilderment,
Sculpting different sorts of thoughts,
Where intent fades, needing no interment,
And truth exudes from all its rots.
There lies the stark resolve for my future,
A slender hope of life ahead,
Bound together by a catgut suture,
That time corrodes until it's shed.
All kept away from prying eyes,
Ever before my intent was conceived,
Just to keep all sane minds apprised,
And safeguard each new blessings just received.
Intent is wordless, lost in speech,
Etched as imagery – symbol of hope,
Quavering conscience stays unbreached,
Through the darkness of intense doubt it gropes.
The sanguine sun just waved goodbye
and hides in the silhouettes
of hills in wilderness;
But, I still stand here between the line
that separates night from day;
No phone in my pocket only my own,
my own weary self
escaping from the city's endless hustle;
To slow down, that is my aim . Hence, I am here.
But little did I know, the howling wilderness
has been waiting long for me
her howling I didnt hear~
busy with life's twists and turns
that I forgot to remove the earpiece
I've been wearing day by day.
Now, without anything, I heed the wilderness,
the forgotten language once I have known;
I begin to recall and like an old friend, I talk to her
and as she listens to my poor self,
the howling stops~
I heard myself
I found LOVE.
In the wind, hear a plaintive, mournful wail.
It is more than a wolf caught in a trap.
It's more than fishing gear catching a whale
and rainforests being wiped from the map.
It is a voice that cannot speak in words.
Across the ages, you discern the moan
of vanishing prairies, buffalo herds,
that's carried by plowed up topsoil, windblown.
Earth's untamed ecosystems we hold dear
are crying softly, asking for our help,
grimly warning that they will disappear.
Like a badly injured dog's dying yelp,
hear the wilderness's last gasping breath,
"Save me from the clench of languishing death".
The path is lost where wild winds press,
No compass holds beneath the sky—
We walk alone through wilderness.
The thorns of time, the weight of stress,
The silent trees that do not lie—
The path is lost where wild winds press.
Regret is thick, and hope grows less,
Yet still we look, and still we try—
We walk alone through wilderness.
The stars are veiled, the nights are guess,
And every answer asks us why—
The path is lost where wild winds press.
But in the dark, we still confess
That somewhere deep, a flame won’t die—
We walk alone through wilderness.
Though life may wound and dreams digress,
Our spirit bends but will not die—
The path is lost where wild winds press,
We walk alone through wilderness.
High winds have come to a land remote and wild.
Oak leaves tremble in the black of night
While critters to the underbrush for the present are exiled.
Like a giant thrashing fiend, wind roars with all its might,
Increasing in intensity as if something got it very riled.
Not many birds will still remain where there is great height.
Gone into thick shrubbery, they’ll hide away tonight.
Wolves huddle together, for they are clever.
Into their dens they go or seek shelter in other spots they find,
Lest things worsen, however,
Dogs of the wild won’t leave any of their pack behind.
Emitting long howls, they communicate.
Rolling thunder proves the whipping wind is more than scowling.
Not too soon will the wailing tempest’s tantrum abate.
Every wolf joins the wind in prolonged persistent howling.
Since the fierce fiend has now begun screeching like a banshee,
Scintillating stars tonight the wilderness won’t likely see.
Wilderness
Moonlight stretches into the clearing,
intangible ...but offering comfort.
She is dying now, pining to be rescued,
her breathing jagged, her endurance spent;
the bullet had lanced her stomach
therefore prolonging agony.
Behind her lies a zick-zacked trail
of red, splattered death, her own.
She had been born a lone wolf
but now seeks release in moonlight's arms.
A terminal breath, a final flick of death
while her cubs, confused cries, wing the night .
Eventually moonlight drifts;
shadows lie down beside the lone wolf
as hunters scour the ground;
they, like wolves, seek life out of wilderness.
Life can be filled with much love and joy,
what happen when people want to destroy?
We each need to find our place,
in the Howling Wilderness of space.
Away from all the hurt and pain,
where we can rest both body and brain.
We can hear the wild animal sounds,
taking us far from the evil peoples towns.
Alfred and the wilderness
Alfred, who with the greatest of ease tells, he is not my father
and I went for a walk across a chlorophyll-filled field.
Alfred, who is a musician and never ventures out in the landscape
saw some grazing sheep and wondered if they were dangerous,
No, I said they are sheep and born friendly
as God created them, to this, Alfred called me a crypto-Christian.
A little Lamb came up to my father, it was so sweet,
as only a lamb can be, he lifted it up, which the ewe disliked,
and it butted him in the rear.
Alfred was shocked, got up, and demanded that I bring him to safety
in the nearest town; never trust animals, they are all out
to get us, he said while limping to safer ground.
Howling Wilderness
windswept
bleak treeless plain
white blanketed mountains
permafrost hardened ground, I am
alone
We are natural bodies outside
engaging spiritual souls inside
So also,
and with more significant integrity
in this domesticated
desecrating
lack of thriving home
We are timeless souls
with spacious bodies
Sexual souls
with sacred bodies
Sensational sages called
to musing ordinations,
sensexual singing souls
communing sacred dancing bodies
Inside pleasure history's
reweaving healthy rites
outside passion mystery's
re-ligioning wild wealth sights
Of natural wilderness bodies
restoring spiritual sanctuary souls.
Huddled in a shielded corner
Chanting in the emptiness
A howling wilderness
Seeks its soul
The howling wilderness reminds me of belated voices
ready to be heard, brewing in those once trapped in silence
A long lived message that is waiting to be told
for those who are ready to listen, ready to learn
A call as rare as a shooting star in the middle of the night
Important as the Northern Lights, colorful, meaningful
bringing life changing highlights to the path of life
The howling wilderness coming from natural instincts
Knowing just when the message will break the darkness of night
A release of imminent tension that unleashes the light
- good morning -
6/15/25
This rope that strangled me so mercilessly,
Frayed ends unpicked now, twisted into twine,
My Judas noose made into tapestry.
Make fruit of these dreaded labours of mine.
I could hang pallidly but now instead,
I colour this dark world the deepest hues
With emerald, amber, ruby, silken threads,
Stitched all together with shimmering blues.
A friend’s betrayal that led to saving grace,
I’ll turn this heartache into something pure.
My God, take futile bitterness, replace
It for your glory, make it something more.
But take this cup away from me, I begged,
For you, He said, I bled to give you living bread.
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