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Brian Rusch Poem
Ah, most beautiful
In this World is Music
Best language to learn.
A prime, universal Connection
To, and for, all Life and Living
From without, and within.
As authors, from the heart’s breath in each of us
Playing out our diverse humankind…
To throughout the all of Nature
Seen, and unseen...
Our musics travel on the wisest sacred roads of breath
Without which, all could come to saddened end
As Nature listens, in tune, giving back in kind.
Returning with winds, waters, fires, and spirits
As the fledging grand carriers
Throughout nature’s kingdoms
Playing tunes for all to hear...
Asking for no ticket, no fee required.
Music... magic, moving in mysterious
Yet identifiable, secret ways
With all at it’s command
Not just to create
But also to find-as-found
As an each note, or many, lying within
Physical, mental, and spiritual
Actions, emotions, and nutrition's…
For the best, and worst, to manifest
Into their own Beingness.
Whether in place...
In transitioning below, and/or above
Frequency, and dimension.
In the utter simplicity
As part of a note
To the most complex symphony
Laid out before us
Music delights, mystifies, tortures, pains
Relaxes, celebrates, uplifts, and comforts.
Within It lies the order and scope of mathematics
As well as a leading indicator
In support to, and for query, into mystical outer areas
Even into the Beyond Understanding Complex.
Yay, even to entering and abiding, within Chaos itself.
It’s octaves stretch off into eternitys
Waiting to be grasped and used-at-will
Repeatedly or in parts, combined, or separated
Broken, or whole.
It wanders freely fields mystic, and grand
To be found as a note, a hum, a whistle
A poem, jingle, hymn
Sonnet, chorus, or single verse.
It greets life arriving
And leaving
Beginning, and ending.
It is a conversation, and a brand
A kind, and a spirit...
Enslaving, and yet free.
It’s fickle, and sweet
It heats, and cools
It sells, and costs.
It owns, and shares
It heals, and sickens
It earns, and breaks.
It draws, and scatters
It can be elusive, yet found
Warning, and celebrating.
Oh, how it can drift, and centralize
As it announces, and hides.
It misleads, and leads.
We’ve heard it’s true, and false
It warms, and chills
It hides, and finds.
It seeks, and travels
Resting in common, and strange places.
Best of all, Music abides.
So, for just the asking, ask
As waiting within lies it’s vast complexity
Hiding many times in utter simplicity.
Supporting highest virtue or utter depravity
It honors the best, and the worst
Most of all, it comforts to need.
Music should be the first language offered
Taught in home and school
First as fun, then as science
Then art, and then, philosophy.
Each to their own learning
And, becoming wise into greater understanding
There, not resting, to progress further.
Yes, give us free voice, to sing
Open ears, to appreciate in listening
Hands, to write, compose, and play.
All art is lessened without it
No life can truly live
Really alive... without it.
For the less of it
The less connection to music with the all in All
Each, becomes diminished.
Stay therefore true to that what is... the best of all
A singing path, well worth following
Adding new verses as found, true to your own Self.
So be it.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2024
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Brian Rusch Poem
In morning’s dim light
Water says ‘please, let me too,
have my rainy day’
Watch... as sprinkling ends
Sun turning drops into mist
Then, see light sparkling.
___*___
Sun returns, ruling
Nature rising, playing games
All join in the dance
Human mindfulness…
Balance is the time keeper
Listening to songs
We all playing part
Learning to steward well
Less chaos set loose
___*___
Earth days turn to night
As Nature, resets it’s clock
Returning balance
For Earth remains first
Duty bound, makes playing fields
Equal to life’s needs.
___*___
So dancing returns
Life in magical rhythms
Even watchers learn
Where else new tunes found?
As more get up to join in
Even janitors.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2024
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Brian Rusch Poem
I
Signs of bad times ring
The coming of the Elder days
When old and new join together, rotting away.
Is there anything left?
All pray, hoping some good will stay
As Earth glides into mordant clouds
Perhaps forever, or just for a day.
Either way...
Come what may
Even the Sun becomes
It's own prey.
So it continues to be written.
___*___
Handwritten Note, Date unknown
Found by Balkin
On the floor of Eagle’s Beak Cave II dig
___*___
‘So it does,’ he thought, thinking of the old poem...
‘Continue to be written.’
The clearing suddenly became very quiet
As the Antlered Man emerged from the deeper adjoining woods.
Exuding great strength
He silently, without fanfare
Moved through the crowds of Elves, Fairies
A few Giants, and an assortment of Midland peoples.
Upon seeing him, all separated from him
Each with their own kind
As they had at first when finding the hanging object.
It, silently swaying from the old oak’s main branch.
___*___
‘Bartholomew, that was it,’ the Antlered Man thought
Recalling the Wood’s ancient name
‘Bartholomew the Elder.’
What was it exactly he read…?
So little, he only remembered that title
Known by most people
Except for tonight…
When he thought better, using its secret true name
One he already knew, on a more relative level.
‘Bartholomew, He Who Stuns into Silence.’
This he knew as it's true secret name
Known only to a few historian scholars… and him.
As he added more lore from his memory
‘More often than not…
Living well up to that name, like... tonight?’
How much in this hanging was this old ancient
Wooded wisdom responsible for?
Bartholomew, a lone sentinel
That for well over a century surviving...
Now stood alone, the sole large living occupant of this wide field.
This, of an expanded acreage, surrounded by woods
That without the fine grasses
And seasonal blooming of red flowers
Held little other life calling it home.
Except evidently for now, seeing those here celebrating?
Or was that only one of relief.
Or, as in the past, just by those passing by
Both offering proper reverence
Though assuredly never staying long.
Not even the fairies were known to linger here now
No matter the best of nights for Ring-singing
When the fall, full Moon was in it's best
Reflective, mystic calling glory.
‘No dancing then...
And no revelry from them here this evening…’ he muttered
As he glanced over at their group
Fluttering at a safe distance
Quiet, nervous, looking ready to bolt.
He looked at the brightest, their yellow, twinkling leader.
‘Surely they are not part of this...’ he surmised.
‘Hmm,’ he also thought...
‘Was that leader holding the group together...
Was she who he thought it was?
If so, how did she fit into this?
She, Yalu, one who was he knew
Surprisingly very wise...
And always seemed close to any meaningful actions…
Like here'.
___*___
Automatically looking down,
He could still sense the Earth-shock
In dried bloods the deep soil held…
Still waiting for a final absorption...
‘So much of it… rivers of it,’ he recalled.
He felt his memory wakening to the long past events
He had witnessed here.
Actions which, though those times
May have been thought so far distant...
Still, sprang up vividly into clearer memory
As if yanked by threads.
‘His threads?’
For he himself had been present back then.
That feeling, strong, came on in a weird sensing.
Threads of thoughts and deeds, indeed
He felt each of the field’s occupants were now yanking on…
The threads holding the object there swaying from the tree
Where he had been hung.
He walked up to the center group gathered
The leaders who, upon seeing him
Separated to offer him honored clearance...
And in their respectful silence, remained quiet
Waiting for him to first speak… no introductions needed.
All knew who he was
Acknowledging their awareness of his prowess
Power of course, and standing in the group.
‘Well,’ he announced gruffly, looking up
At the hanging body of one of the Ancient of Days...
One he recognized now as an important acolyte
One of, The Three
Servant to the Most Ancient of Days.
‘Curious,’ he thought.
‘What was he doing so far South, here?’
He quickly shuffled that inner query aside
For a later private discussion.
“Who is going to explain this travesty…?” he said aloud
Speaking in his most authoritative voice...
One that allowed no preemptive discussion.
After all, these were his woods, his to protect
And, hold against all evils.
He looked for a leader to supply the answer
Nothing, it remained quiet.
Until, from the back of the group
Came a small diminutive voice.
“I saw it all…” she said.
(to be cont'd)
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2023
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Brian Rusch Poem
The Medicine was harsh
Never promised to be good
Just enlightening.
In luicid dreaming
A giant becomes a Self
So did Gerd follow
To rule too, soon
As his father before him
Leading his people.
I
Worlds.. ‘Wind thee careful through these worlds
Where words have different meanings
Even colors change their shades’.
Nights? Dawns? Known to repeat...
Missing all the who’s, what’s, why’s, even where’s
‘Not gone... mind you, just missing’.
And here, the clearing was very silent.
Gerd’s ancestral grandhold
Filled with giants.
‘Listen, listen, listen...
They all should snore’.
But not here, why?
‘Lucid dream time when fevered’, was the answer.
Did I then come all the way out of it
Or is this or these, sick, unheard parts
Presenting issues?
My guardian’s voice only answered, sounding deep… ‘Proceed’.
Landing, damn, lost again...
Home only to strangers.
Back to lakes
Lost and found
Best of losses
Best of found
Which is it?
Dream connections unraveling, unraveled
Threads guiding...
Where is home?
Lucid dreaming on full course
Home being the hunted
To be, reach out
To be, another man.
That man?
World's adrift
Lucid dreaming
In forever’s nest.
Best remember though...
First commandment
‘Light no fire’.
Gently lay I on the softest grasses.
II
‘Son, do you not see the stars in the sky
whispering your name?
Did you not know your fathers listened
in wonder just the same?’
Gerd grinned.
‘So does the universe laughing
Play it’s silly games
As we all play the game
For fame the same.’
‘Learn this well’ came a voice of a different persuasion...
‘Chaos cannot last forever feeding...
For in the far end comes always, Self-destruction.
Itself all burns out it’s Self entirely... All.
Even tendrils move to... into the end
Extinguishing themselves fighting
To survive in utter strange chaos’sness
Until they too become Nothing.
Know this Nothing... is, The Deep’.
III
The Deep...
Where Only a lost voice remains
A soul without gender gobbling itself up
Plotting to live.
Any scrap being a victory
A thread of something, anything
To cling to, any last vestige...
Of anything to have as a step
In which… to once again eat itself.
The Deep…
Primal Fire Energy.
Water Deep evaporated long ago
Leaving no vibration of life.
No living needed from Ether of any kind
For Time itself is stilled.
Nothing, no fuel left to burn
Only one last weakining voice…
Slowly fading away into...
Silence.
Truly all beyond mortal understanding
This, the supreme Isness
Nothing, the pure Void...
The Deep.
IV
There, waiting for One Cause
For a Word will do.
Running on pure empty...
Where to find breath for that?
A Sun shines on a tired, dirty sign.
‘Life giving provides breath
Life taking shortens it…’
Know ye...
In this, is... the great secret of all.
Life giving feeds itself
In the natural processes, it nurtures balance.
Life taking destroys itself
Feeding on itself and own resources until gone.
Balance is the key...
Middle of the path traveling being best.
My furthest Son…
Be ye a best Shepard.
Always remain very wary of chaos
And it’s feral drawing.
More, then more, so easy
For the sake of fluff and glitz.
Past any chatoyancy’s
And their seeming pleasuring shines.
Look at this rightly
Through the lenses of true history as you travel...
Mapping nothings as found
For what they truly are...
Only lessons.
Be ye then a Shepard to all...
For see ye truly, you own nothing.
How can you...
When you truly know nothing.
Not there
Not here…
Not ever.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2023
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Brian Rusch Poem
In Life-living, there is a Ledge
A slippery path we all must tread
Sharp-edged…
Many times mean it seems.
To move along, one must do with what they have…
Though much of what they have, cannot be seen
For much still remains hidden within Self
And our own dreams, yet to be dreamt.
___*___
Where here and there questions remain unanswered...
Who truly comprehends all the gifts bestowed by the Maker Sun?
Who truly knows... the wit, wile, and wisdoms that beguile?
Like how we each are married, inner to outer Self, I to me, as One?
We only glimpse inner treasures that wisdom bestows
Plying best within the outer trade
Navigating present life and living’s labyrinth
In some kind of taught high-style path laid
Though ‘style’ is a word producing myriad-plus mirages of fancy effects
Depending on placement, where one’s at…
___*___
Where one is at?
Understanding’s better driving that car
If one wants to go far
Banishing internal strife in learning to steer…
Guiding our vessel, learning, through the higher Art-of-Life
Where to be brave
Where, what, and when to fear.
There.. now here, is outer following inner Soul's plan as arranged
Or just imprintings taught, absorbed
Never challenged, improved, or changed?
Shall we only unfurl the hard, safe, surface memories
Leaving our true, deeper story in shifting sand
Or focus on the Soul's active wisdoms, never denying?
For the Edge of Imprint World can only speak of the past
Memories never rewinding enough to play…
Whole games, silent, lying.
___*___
It’s the Soul, the inner Self
That knows the right Edge-way to play
How to fall right, when hitting extremes
That demand... stay the right way, today.
And it’s the Self that has to wisely rise
Rise back up from extremes
Forgiving all, while then returning
To dream again, within radiant themes.
This is the simple, the gospel, the All-of-It true
We play out what we dreamt
In the space’s place, where we planned to learn
And then reapply ourselves… to dreamt Dream’s Edge to walk
Picking at right lessons, within those places we planned here, to discern.
Asking the hard question… within discern, to learn, is this what it’s about
Not job duty, material wealth, or fleeting fame?
Since quietly, no matter, the Edge continues along
With only rest stops, called dying, the same.
___*___
Then get walking, running, jumping along again
Through lifetimes, or once, who knows?
Just make sure... walk right-purpose’s Edge
Not dressing in an Emperor’s illusory clothes.
For who likes laughing at Bozo clowns that look like us
In mirrors that jest for humors and wit
As, sooner or later, the red nose must come off
For one to see beneath… the obvious zit.
The zit to pop, letting the toxins out
To then take care, eat right, and move on along
Witnessing remaining wonders around abound, partner selected as we did
To help in co-authoring, writing our own, most awesome sweet song.
Your song, my song, to sing
To show the World’s in I lived, we loved
All carried for each other this far
The true each of us..
You and I
Shining Lights singing, each a singular Star
With the Universe’s smiling
Hearing our golden, vibrating voices
Our souls have thrived
Complete, whole, and home
Vibrantly alive.
___*___
Oh look to the Heavens around
They sparkle so bright, a delight
Seen, unseen, beckoning stars
In brilliance filling the skies
With sparkling Light’s vibrations pushing, keeping back the darkest dark
A dark too, like us, that never dies.
Nothing holding Chaos at bay, but balance
And nothing complete, without Presence
So do we, vibrating brightly in each our found balance
Serve we in grace as lightings for others, kindling their trust
Guiding others, to find too, their very own way
Tio finally continue to dance, lighting up, to stay.
For then others to see, then dream at
And on starry nights, take flight too
When most seem to sleep
Taking off in dreaming anew
Soaring beyond, through enigmatic sights
Discovering secrets in the cosmic night.
Out, over, into, and through, the mysterious Deep
Also asleep.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2023
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Brian Rusch Poem
At Wild Spirit’s Door I
At what Gate am I
Such magnificance as met
With hard road ahead.
I am but a man
Manifesting desire
For understanding
Wisdom’s not enough
Hard living even in dreams
Brings me to this spot
Where legends meet real
And singing songs lie ready
Preparing the way.
___*___
And the Centaur, Chiron laughed, unable to just stand there
After trotting around in such evident glee.
“You all think wishing for better is well enough…
Oh my, oh me, know what we see?
Oh a prayer, mantra... how so very nice to eat
God is so with you.
Loving us all
Seeing your willful ignorance's in such careful practice
Little matter to you...
Without knowing, same vibrations stay attached.
We feed, as high priests remain running
Thinking to save, at least, each, himself
Having left his proper Trail long, long ago
How goes the arrogance now?
Still calling himself father, then brother...
Shepard of so little flock left
But ancient, dwindling memories?”
“What has this to do with me?” I asked
“You here…
Speaking on dining so on hopes and dreams tasked.”
“Oh, we do eat emotions so well,” he replied
“As all unfolds… Dreaming remaining
Just a giddy mirage of bountiful tables serving...
Hiding evils easily
More so then allowed into your dated world
Which crumbles in tasty piecemeal energies
With each misguided step.
Look around you… Animals know all
Hear them as they too get leave to laugh.
Kill one, mistreat one, they all know
‘Tis better to stand in peace
They have the thicker armor.
Or, in feeling rabid as you
They would rise in defense
And wipe you all out.
For in true wisdom, wisest know
All is vibration
A kind is not part this, and other that
But a Whole
Looking at it’s Self through Duality
To learn... about It’s Self, in its moving side-to-side
Up-and-down, becoming a higher Whole.
And as you do to one of a kind
You do unto one of your own higher Self
Get it?
Imagine that, there is no forgiveness.
Right or wrong
There just... Is.”
___*___
“Yet”, he continued
“Yet you forgive and do penance
For so many wrongs, not really wrong
Leaving the mighty big ones alone.”
“Yes”, I answered, “We do practice that edifice built
As a better bag, lighter to carry, than unforgiven guilt's.”
“Listen to you... poet are you?”
Chiron glared, humor now faded
Changing to his Shape-shifter self.
“Thinking to forgive yourselves
Even to allowing others to be their own forgivers
As if they had some kind of power to what
Change intent at the time?
Or, forgive a memory
Of anything already past, as done?
I, when in your form, worked to better my Self...
Through normal Gates earned
Using guilt’s I had, as badges of learning
How else to be what I am to become
And in understanding, change.
Human Tricksters know what Is... becomes into Was
Human kind then creating profits... to salve consciences
Creating only a beggar’s wheels ever-turning
Playing catch-up with ghost forgiveness’s.
Knowing what you truly do then constantly
With such a tough resilience
Is not too... really Change.
No, never wholly that...
To truly do, as you human’s would be done by.
Better cursing, damning as you do
The Fate’s plate in front of you…
Actions still demanding fair justice.”
“Well,” I countered
“We, ourselves, each serve self up to our Self.
Are we then to be so damned?”
And the Centaur in Chiron
Sharply laughed behind his mask…
“You are already wildly, living damned”, he replied.
“Lost in the We-of-It
As we all are, wildly living…
Why, look at even me!” he said
Shifting his presense from Chiron to Centaur
“Do you even know who it is you truly see?
We each live within our own damnation cell
Else why travel through so many Gates, looking so for freedom?
And to find me standing here, waiting for you…
We are more alike... then you know.
Isn’t it truly more than curiosity
That drives us seekers so?
Not all are just Wanderers as you
Some, are just Nomads on the loose to shake things up.”
___*___
“If humankind would only truly look
And travel around through Time”, he continued
“Trying not so hard, to deaden yourselves...
Instead, search out further, see our combined local truth’s
In wise knowing, celebrating the return of our right actions coming...
Balance again, may right the playing Game.
Then friendly hands can shake, until the next time...
Then, visiting upon us at these Gates again
In receiving, need no more excuses
For passing through...
Rather staying firm
Managing the proper balancing out, before approach.
Think it fair Wisdom manifesting...
Not... Cause, Event, Forgive and Onward, Unbalanced, - Tally-ho...
Better to... Cause, Event, get Right-Balanced
Then move forward, learned, forgiven
Better armed with truer intent.
You humans already have the right life-long Guide
Present near you to provide highest example
If you would but truly listen, see, taste, and feel.
Learn ye well from Nature Supreme
For within Her, All is Balance.”
___*___
He let me think on this awhile
As a beautiful breeze blew new leaves
On a close-by tree.
I saw a yellow light leave a branch
A firefly or fairy?
It did a quick somersault near us
Then went over and alighted on another closer tree behind me.
While Chiron unmindful, contiunued…
"Think of the inside of the spinning Ouroboros
Sorted out from the Chaos without.
All is Balance here calling...
Creating order constant... out of Universal Chaos.
For is not that the most supreme wish of all
Order in Chaos?
Your Heaven’s Nothing in Balance
Where songs may gather, and sing us all in Peace?"
"Yes", he said, "knowing Chaos is never far afield, true
Though still, It being up to us to open any wild door...
So does Curiosity prosper…” he chuckled
“It dances lively a lot.
As is this door, this Gate, brought for you
You, coming to freely pass.”
(to be cont’d)
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2023
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Brian Rusch Poem
Silent, yet sounding
You asked… how, why, what, when, where
To parents present...
Atmosphere living
Grabbing experiences
Family teachings
With taught imprintings
How to live future, prepared
By societies;
Base value teachings...
Who truly rules the roost
‘Well, God and Country’.
Curiosities...
Atmosphere fits challenges
Integrating fun
So childhood passes
Occasions creating much
Opportunity!
Cause... many effects
Beginning rebellions
Meet false imprintings;
Secure foundations
Crumble under new findings
Nature intervenes.
School fades away
Picking from free choice
Next curiosity’s
Diversities reign
Imprinters no more present
Freedom shakes your hand.
___*___
Wilderness trekking
One finds Nature’s atmosphere’s
Sensing disciplines
You then find new truths
Things missed, not sensed right before
Creating bridges
New causeways of life
New equations set to need
Freedom’s subtleties
Land flows and puddles
Excitements find new hotels
Missed formal rest stops
Living by fresh streams
Time-chunk pools rented for rest
Disturbing, the rich
Peace’s and chaos
Masters crack imprinting whips
“Leave us ours alone!”
You ask...’what is mine’
As what was found is real truth
Time for final choice.
___*___
As in time’s before...
Days fold into days
Into elder days.
Atmosphere’s there are
Covered in clouds you allowed
So settle you down
Facing debriefings
Still living through old habits
Children imprinting...
As was done to you
So you do freely to them
Best to rest easy.
Universe vibrates
Chaos remains free to lie
Spinning this world ‘round.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2024
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Brian Rusch Poem
Ah, no dreaming this...
I drift uncaring to Time
In time’s given me.
___*___
How could one as I... be so free from moments
When such moments of splendor hold me
Me, in awe of further... what could well be
If I, since truly free, just wished it to be.
Perhaps though just in wishing it
To just 'be'... in me, I am already free.
___*___
Yes, Time presses it’s greasy hold
Not knowing I can smell it’s intents
While I laughing, keep breaking it’s mold
By dreaming where it holds so few, little ‘I meants’.
Saddled with no reasons needed
Just fluttering around
Intent's like butterflies
Waiting for flower petal’s thoughts, to invite… ah, found.
___*___
Yes, in just moving around
I take in sweet smells, thus
Tasting pollens, their seeds
At random to my own delightfulness...
As my true age holds nothing now new
Fear boundaries having been, and being broken
As true spirit knows now the truths it has found
In finding Time’s chains permanently not broken, woken.
___*___
See me now...
Be I at new birth, or just passing on, or along.
Outside warns…
Deign to tarry, thus staying too long
Beware, as no bell chimes...
No tides bringing in, flow out.
No, I easily move on, just skipping about...
With the I in me’s chaffing, a... tiny bit
Being little interested in the places I sit, for long
Knowing past, present, and future
Are just like softest dimples in sand
Waiting, for sterner breezes of Spirit
To choose where next... each lands.
___*___
Laughing and burrowing deep to find cause
Making new effects changed, for the thrill of it all...
Then scurrying away singing, through seasons like fall
When leaves take their passing, until spring again calls.
Oh jump ahead quickly, why wait within Time
Take Self to next spring without hardly trying
Riding with fresh saps once again, to spring out leaves early
Curiosity’s mattering more then, remembering where one’s been.
___*___
Yes, I drift uncaring to time
An uplifted Man in Time.
Thus do I advance
To life living’s very edge
Where moments of splendor hold me gently
Satisfying my own curiosity and need
Yet, daring I to cross free singing
Join me...
Beyond Understanding’s... welcoming bridge.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2023
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Brian Rusch Poem
Sing for me a bedtime song
One that puts me, in peace to sleep
Let life smooth over all past that’s wrong
So tomorrow’s days safe keep.
And I will work to swab, clean the decks
Let dirt's fly free, up, away
So my life provides fresh landing fields
For kind peace to land and stay.
And when it’s time for Me too to go
Kind peace then sets me Free
Letting trade winds softly... take me home
Evermore contented free, to be.
Until higher wisdom sets back in
Curiosity plays it’s hand
To set me off on another ride
Just a player in the band.
Whose leader’s call has woke me up
Hey, a new song to learn to sing
So diverse life too refreshes it’s Self
With new decks needed to clean.
And who else to call, bringing kind peace again
But an old deck swabber like me
Who creates, then cleans the dirt that sticks to wood
So kind peace has a place to be.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2023
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Brian Rusch Poem
Where to, old man, with your weary stride
Through the streets where shadows hide?
Is it to the past you wander now
Or chasing dreams that fled somehow?
Your footsteps echo with tales untold
Of battles fought and hearts grown cold
Each wrinkle etched on your telling face
Giving roadmaps of time, of life's embrace.
Do you seek solace in the setting sun
Or redemption for deeds undone?
Is there still hope within your sorry soul
Or has it slipped beyond your control?
But onward you march, with stoic grace
A silent witness to life's embrace
For though your journey may seem unsure
Your spirit burns with fires pure.
So where to, old man, with your weary stride?
Perhaps to find peace, or love, or pride
But wherever your path may finally lead
Know that your story is one we'll heed.
___*___
I lay so... seemingly far away from here
Resting in the sleeping bag of my dreams.
Wherever do I come from
Going exactly where, I wonder.
Chilled, wrapped in safety blankets of thoughts and memories known
With mansions, many more waiting
Through sleepy mind’s open door, ready to visit.
“Release”.. I say
“Release today’s sad soul’s connection
Into bettter fancy flights”.
___*___
So off I go...
Again into unknown, crazy enlightened places;
Knowing well in the end...
Yes in deeds, I will have only found my Self.
Aspects in infinity's wrap of strange disturbances.
Oh, so then, why challenge so balance's peace
Why bother old safe dreams with new
Does the river ever end
Is the ocean that near?
Silence surrounds me.
___*___
Ages have I camped in such strange places
Home itself is now... just a figment of what?
A greater picture perhaps…?
Or, just a stamp on an unaddressed envelope...
Waiting for the universe to give up it’s true address.
Infinity’s chuckle rises into glorious laughter
For the envelope has already reached home... it’s me.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2024
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