Light and Shadow at the Alhambra

Under the light of the torches,

The sound of water near and far.

Stunning frescoes frame dark arches,

Emerald green pools reflecting stars.

The sound of water near and far,

From fountains at the lion’s gate.

Emerald green pools reflecting stars,

Round a fortress of love and fate.

From fountains at the lion’s gate,

Through the hall of the two sisters,

Stands a fortress of love and fate.

The vermillion palace whispers.

In the hall of the two sisters,

The door of justice opens wide.

The vermillion palace whispers,

Long columns in the shadows hide.

The door of justice opens wide,

And prayer comes to fill the air.

Long columns in the shadows hide,

Tall palms in the bright garden square.

And prayer comes to fill the air,

Over Sabika’s home and hill.

Voices from the shadows declare,

Stories from the past linger still.

Over Sabika’s home and hill,

The red castle’s walls still stand tall.

Stories from the past linger still.

Those seeking answers come to call.

Those seeking answers come to call,

Under the light of the torches.

Alhambra’s walls standing tall,

Where the frescoes frame dark arches.

Soft sound of water near and far,

Emerald green pools reflecting stars.

Enchanted Rock

On a Good Friday in April

The heavy clouds hung low,

Blending with the barren rock,

Cold and Colorless.

Three silhouettes against the sky,

Three crosses upon the crown,

There the faithful gathered round.

The soft sound of song

Drifted on the wind

Asking, where have you been?

I made my way to the appointed place,

Drawing close to the pageant

That played out before me.

I could hear more clearly now,

The young voices calling,

Do you believe?

As an outsider I stood,

A witness to the divine,

And they began to pray.

I walked around the congregation,

Quietly observing, wondering

What it is they know or feel

That I do not?

A few glances in my direction,

But no invitation or denial.

The ritual proceeded unbidden,

The worshippers subsumed

In this transient moment.

I studied the faces of the faithful.

What brought you here to stand

Upon this Texas hill?

Are you lost or have you been found,

A wish for a dream unfulfilled,

A desire for a joy unrestrained?

Looking for a sign, a feeling, a place,

An inner voice, the wind against your face,

The warm light of the sun

Breaking free from the clouds.

I watched and waited, thinking

On the random nature of faith.

Why some have it and some do not.

And who is blessed, and who is cursed,

What we gain and what we lose,

By choosing a certain path?

On that enchanted rock

There was no epiphany, but

I knew I had witnessed something beautiful,

And that was enough for me.

The Great Silence

Be afraid!

It is much worse than you think,

and it has only just begun,

with so much more to come.

The Great Dying!

As we dance a mindless shuffle

toward a hot inevitable collapse,

we will learn soon enough;

that technology will not save us,

nor faith…or love!

In the new Dark Ages,

how easy it is to die.

The fragility of ordinary life

descending like a knife

in the enormous empty night.

Suffocating, Drowning, Burning,

within a single generation.

Close enough to touch, to share,

to blame

for a hubris so intense.

Climate nihilism so entrenched,

our greatest challenge:

Too late we understand

the fatal myth of man

separate from nature.

Progress was never inevitable.

The elements of chaos irrepressible,

fast encroaching upon our shores.

A Devil’s bargain lost, and then

The Great Silence!

Hot Springs

Take me up to where the hot springs glow,

Above those soft steaming clouds hanging so low.

Come with me then to a magical place,

Where strangers gather and meet face to face.

And watch the morning sun rise high in the sky,

In this mysterious place where my spirit can fly.

See the trees rise firm from the new fallen snow,

In the far mountain passes where the tall pines grow.

No need to answer any questions as to why,

As you listen to the lonely coyote’s cry.

Let the earth’s warm waters come fill your space,

And know once again what it is to feel grace.

Autumn Mist

After the dark autumn nights turn cool,

The morning mist settles between the trees,

Diffusing all color in a seasonal pool.

Like a rolling mist upon a shore of leaves,

My thoughts seem to linger in this place,

All at once, and again, my sad soul grieves.

Quiet, mysterious in such a solemn space,

Shapes take form in the moist air, floating,

The shadows of the trees conceal your face.

Silence blankets the leaves with a soft coating,

Under this canopy they seem to weep,

Memories of those long summer days emoting.

The fallen leaves prepare their winter sleep,

Suspended, alone and finally free,

Pale ghosts of themselves in the forest deep.

For life and love, once all I could see,

After the dark autumn nights turn cool

Fall into shadow as they turn and flee

Lost, as the autumn mist swirls around me.

The Light Over Lucky Peak

A blinding flash, a crack of thunder.

A lightning strike! And we were exposed.

Heavy drops of rain came suddenly,

Soaking the hot dusty trail, and us.

We began to run, seeking cover

Anywhere! Everywhere!

Around the bend and almost there,

When a single beam of light

Broke through the clouds and then,

Another and another and another!

We reached the crest and looked

Out over Lucky Peak

At the vast panorama before us.

It was an amazing sight!

Thirst quenched hills began to glow.

The volcanic rock strikingly defined

By the wet rain shine.

The sage all silver and green,

Gently swayed.

The flat surface of the lake,

Dark as the sky,

Rippled with the last few drops of rain.

The air was clean and crisp

As the storm began to fade.

We stood there, gasping.

As we watched, the sky grew bright,

A veil was being lifted from the clouds.

We smiled at the newborn hue of the sky

Reflecting back on the glistening water.

It was a radiant light,

One that can only appear

After the darkest night.

Taking it all in, stunned

By the rapidity of change all around us,

I thought,

How beautifully transcendent nature can be

Once the danger has passed you by.

To What End?

How much land does one man need

to impose his will upon?

Then came all the Caesars calling

charging across the Rubicon.

He sailed beyond the enlightened shore

to make his presence known.

Columbus found “no monsters” crawling

just “Indians” he could own.

There beyond the dry summer plains

where destiny swallows life,

Lay the naked bones of Custer

scattered with the seeds of strife.

And living space for the Hitler folk

so pure the angels sing.

With no one spared the blood ran cold

and the angels took to wing.

From the east Putin’s red star rises,

the innocent are forced to run.

Smoke billows from shattered lives

into the burning setting sun.

To what end then, does a man seek land

once all the fighting is done?

When just six feet from head to toe

is all that he has won?

Receding

It was always there

just beneath the surface.

Asleep!

Cold and colorless,

the ugliness covered

by a shimmering

blanket of beauty.

Thin though it may be,

it was the only thing we could see

for the longest time.

Shinning bright in the dimmest light,

majestic in form and scope,

a beacon for those without hope,

who dare to dream

of a better way.

And because it has always been,

it would aways be

a permanence in our life,

or so we thought.

We grew careless and complacent

and the thin veneer began to disappear,

to recede and expose

what lay beneath;

a core of dark resentment,

harsh and implacable,

angry and unmoving,

convinced of the righteousness

of its own scarred bedrock.

We watched as silent spectators,

immobilized by quiet assurance.

And the beauty was gone!

Just a memory now

of what we had and lost.

The lesson learned

at such a cost.

For the air grows hot

as the tempests fly

and the passions rise.

Too late we knew the answer why:

The price of hope we failed to pay,

so we let the dream

just melt away.

The Road

How much time and how many sad miles

before I lay this body down?

Will this lonely road take me to new places

where all my old friends can be found?

I see the road is long and the road is dry

with dark sorrow along the way.

It’s the smile I see upon your face

that sustains me through the day.

The sun is hard and the sun is hot

and shadows lay across the land.

I feel the grit invade my eyes

weeping wet in the blowing sand.

I hear the cry of a solitary magpie

who lies hidden in the sage.

Its sad sound echoes across the wind

through the rocks that never age.

Thin clouds sail across the sky

looking for a home they never find.

I taste the bitter disappointment

that has settled deep within my mind.

There is a smell of death along the road

that sometimes comes to fill the air.

Alas, I have traveled too many happy miles

to leave it now without despair.

Bleached Bones

I saw you from a distance as I made my way along the ridge.

I came to kneel beside your remains,

The vertebrae of your noble spine brilliant against the rock.

But with a sigh, I began to question:

Are you here just to remind me of a simple truth,

Your bleached bones providing the awful proof,

Of the fate that awaits us all?

On this windswept hill you are alone.

An empty quiet hangs over this treeless land.

There is no marker for your final resting site,

Just a few clumps of sage clinging to the volcanic stone.

Your blind sockets stare into the blinding sun.

Sad to think it was not the beauty of this place you saw

When last your eyes took in the light.

I’m left to wonder about your death:

Was it wolves that brought you down?

At the end, did you know your time was done?

Your ribs and legs are gone, scattered by the scavengers

Who patiently wait for something like you to receive its fate.

No trace remains of the grace and agility of your gait.

A few pieces of fur stick to the white bone,

Exposed to the sun and the stars, creating life from death.

I have to ask; did you put up a fight?

I suppress an urge to bury your bones, naked in the light.

An image forms in my mind of you:

Your majestic frame a dark silhouette against the morning sky,

Standing motionless upon the ridge,

Poised and ready as you scan the valley below,

Making life and death judgements within the eternity of each passing second.

And then you bolt with a sudden charge,

Leaping as you run beyond the ridge.

To my eye, you seem to fly,

To your mate, to your offspring, to safety, to life!

But there you lie, your beauty and grace long gone,

Decaying in the rain, the snow and the dust.

Still, your bleached bones give an answer to the questions why,

You helped me understand why we live and why we die.

The Offering

She offered up this fruit as salvation for my soul.

Her sly, haunting smile so mysterious to behold.

Little did she say on that strange and frightful day.

A silent referendum on my path of slow decay.

Her look was all it took to bring me to my knees.

A forsaken love separated by far too many degrees.

As for the lonely heart that beats against all time,

Beyond infinite springs of water drifts the long lost lover’s rhyme.

And if my flesh be the moist dark soil of her pain,

Then the distorted image of my world will be her only gain.

A tree of veins cast a shadow of my anger once concealed.

But in her eyes I saw a garden of light to be revealed.

A fantasy once dreamed can find its path to reality.

She reached for my hot hand and beckoned, come with me.

For we are one and the same soul nourished by our strife,

Saving me from battle and dust, my love, my life, my wife.

Fear of Flying

I saw the eyes of God in the uncertain fate of man.

Suspended in the abyss of the unknown terror of oblivion;

Helpless.

Chained to this random sequence of events both large and small.

A prisoner of my own destiny flying blind into the clouds.

Anticipating and waiting, always waiting, for that moment when

We cease to be what we have always seemed to be.

And there is nothing we can do or say to avoid this day;

So we pray:

That the machine does not fail; that human weakness does not prevail;

That our eyes will surely open to greet the dawn of a brand new day.

And we give thanks to this best hope we call God,

When the fear of the moment subsides into mere guilty relief.

And we are grounded again on this good earth.

Smoke on the Water

Rafting the swirling dark water of the Snake,

With just a blanket of grey to mark our way.

The smoke hangs low in the cloudless sky,

From the fire that burns beyond the bridge.

We are floating inside this canyon ridge,

Seeking refuge from what reigns above,

New age tourists in our own pioneer dream,

Cut off from the world, liberated and alone.

Floating like the Corp into the deep unknown,

I cast my line toward the reed covered shore.

The bass are waiting in the deep dark pools.

The breeze echoes down the steep canyon wall.

We look for a place to camp, as the shadows fall.

The rafts are unloaded, the tents are unfolded,

And we fish some more from the reed covered shore,

Standing in the fertile glow of the bright camp light,

Seeking comfort from the coolness of the night.

A few more beers and many stories retold,

But in the re-telling, never seem to grow old.

Somewhere near or far, coyotes begin to call.

With the heavens above concealed from us all,

My tent and bag become a welcome oasis,

And sleep comes quickly, after days like this.

I dream of a world without smoke on the water.

Blood Red Sun

The birds are in the bush

Hiding to be free,

Pretending not to notice

The danger we all see.

A blood red sun hangs

low in the dust filled sky,

A boy running with a gun

Pretending he can fly.

In the People’s House,

Where Lincoln proclaimed men free,

Truth is just a useless word

And fear the new reality.

The sickness seals us in,

A depression in our souls,

We grow weary in mind and body

Asking only to be whole.

So to what vision of glory

Will the future patriots sing,

As we shoot each other in the streets

And bow before the King?

The Comet

Slowly, the setting sun unveils the stars in the blue black sky.

A soft orange yellow glow blankets the distant horizon.

The warm desert air begins to cool and dark shapes loom

As the night descends. Prairie dogs and rattlesnakes have

Retreated to their dens. But somewhere, near or far, the

Coyotes wail against the night to keep us company

Among the rocks and sage.

Sufficiently dark, the moment has come.

We lift our gaze in silent prayer under this heavenly dome.

To the east, the Milky Way begins to glow, But there

In the northwest, among the points of light that dip,

The sign we have come to see.

A long brush of light with a tail fading fast,

Fingers point, the shutter clicks, as NEOWISE speeds away.

A transcendent moment as we come to feel the stardust

In us all. A brief visit to this troubled rock,

Hidden in a corner of this vast universe.

Still, a welcome respite from all that troubles our souls.

Another six thousand years, they say,

Before it swings back this way.

But I am left to wonder when,

If human eyes will be here to greet it then!

Under Her Pillow

Silently,

she glides out of bed,

a soft rustle of bed clothes in her wake.

I reach for the space, empty now,

but still warm under her pillow.

I feel her warmth,

as I stretch my limbs.

I smell her fragrance.

The sheets radiate her essence.

I embrace the empty space

and try to make it my own.

I absorb her heat, fading now,

but for the space under her pillow.

Slowly,

a smile comes to my face

and I return to my dream

for a few minutes more.

Door of Perception

I bathe in the bright light of her Faustian glance.

But a tragic wind blows beyond the lamp.

Along the corridors of shame I make my stand.

Living! Loving! Lying!

The yellow lemon leans in upon my dreams,

Low hanging fruit for the looters to grab.

To dance along the market square,

In a world that does not judge color.

An angry crowd glides through the streets,

Yearning to breathe free and watch the birds.

The flag billows from an invisible hand.

Growing flames flicker in the evening glow.

She carried a sign that said: No justice, No peace!

Talking loud above the din,

The lies he spins, with absent grace.

A baby cries from across the water.

Another black life stolen,

One more thread undone.

A peoples’ dreams are silenced.

We feel diminished!

One less stripe,

One less star,

One door closed,

Another door must open!

Soft Rain

Come spring a soft rain will fall.

Tears from above to cool us all.

Some relief from the hot ash of decay,

And still the silent flower blooms.

A splash of color against the sky.

Under the porch, the Robin eggs are blue.

How can there be so much death, I ask,

If the birds continue to sing so true?

Why did the sickness wait so long,

To catch us up as the days turned warm?

Mother’s creatures roam beyond the fence,

Not knowing or caring where we went.

Penance for the fool in each of us,

For callously losing our way.

Blind to reality, a destiny not our own,

We are told to embrace a brand new day.

Living life on the edge of a blade,

As we quietly bury the dead.

While the soft rain falls upon us all,

So many things left unsaid.

Alone in the Desert

Alone in the desert,

Beneath the hot blue sky.

I walk the shifting sands,

In search for a reason why.

The sickness seals me in,

I await the judgement call.

Silent dreams soon deferred,

Racing toward the fall.

My memories of the past are gone,

Lost in the desert sand.

Swept away by the dry wind,

I count my blessings on one hand.

I look for the promised message,

Out beyond the flowing dunes.

A prayer for my God,

Under a waxing moon.

Once a haven for my soul,

The empty beauty of this place.

I long for the market voices,

To come and fill my empty space.

And lift me from this haze,

of cloud and sun and sand.

To hear the sound of hope,

I will offer up my hand.

The Setting Sun

When will we learn to run

Straight away from the setting sun,

To look instead for what is true?

Where do we go when standing still?

How do we grow

When we embrace the old?

Falling fast for what never lasts,

I let my vision go!

A rising sun meets the pre-dawn light,

To reveal the path we know is right.

Though some souls will be left behind,

Change does not come to those who doubt.

So we must grow

To embrace the new.

Rising high to touch the sky,

I let my vision show!