PERVASION
In the hushed depths of the American woods, where leaves conspire on an ancient stream, a movement was born. It was a movement of the soul’s ethereal fire, a yearning for deeper connection with nature, with oneself, and with the cosmos. This was the Transcendental movement; a stirring of hearts and minds in the 19th century, led by luminaries like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau.
A solitary soul wanders the wooded
Paths of Concord, a poet with eyes
Reflecting wisdom from ages past,
Striding with purpose not just through
The physical landscape, but through
The depths of his own consciousness.
In a cabin nestled by Walden Pond’s tranquil shores,
Distilling the water’s reflection into an essence
Of existence, finding simplicity’s beauty
In the unadorned hymn of quiet moments,
Mysteries dwelling beneath tree canopies.
The Transcendental movement, not merely a
Literary or philosophical endeavor,
But a way of life, a pilgrimage
Not an escape from reality, an embrace
Of it, to glimpse the divine spark
In each leaf, each blade of grass,
In words and deeds.
Leaving a legacy, a reminder
That the heart of nature holds the key to transcendence.
TRANQUILITY
Still blue pond waters held the old man’s face. A reflection in every timeline of a history slowly coming upon its end. Interacting jostling shapes distorting features once youthful, once purposeful. Images reflected in the sun dancing on ripples created from the breath of the sky. A family, a past and the memories of a happy time when the future held promise. Now in his vision he only sees the depths of black ink, emanating from a tannin coated floor. He knew he was given everything needed for an unspecified time. The Sirens of the pond called him, opening their arms to a watery grave. Silently walking away to a new judgment, he waited for the second coming.
MISSING MANHATTAN
The bustling streets of Manhattan were quieter than usual. Something was missing, something big. As people walked by, they looked around, trying to figure out what it was. Then they saw it; the towering skyscrapers that defined the skyline were gone.
Rumors circulated about a missing billionaire who had taken his wealth and disappeared, taking the buildings with him. Some claimed it was an act of revenge against the city, while others believed he had gone mad with power.
But as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, the truth remained a mystery. All that was left was an empty skyline, a constant reminder of what had been lost.
The city hums never-ending music.
A symphony of car horns and clamor,
Timid footsteps on an endless pavement with
Sirens in the distance.
I walk amidst the chaos
My thoughts, an unsettled plight.
My heart heavy in uncertainty
Discord has beauty as well.
The sunlight glimmers on glass skyscrapers,
A smile from a stranger.
The city ablaze with life,
A living breathing organism and I
But a small part of its rhythm.
In this moment, I am alive and connected.
To the world around me
I am grateful for this flash of beauty.
Reminding me of my place in the world.
ERASED
Moonlight bathes headstones
In elongated shadows,
Casting a cynical glow.
Perfectly aligned mercenaries
Long ago legions,
Covenants to life’s carnage.
Brittle cement markers
Forgotten names etched and
Adorned in plastic flowers.
Resurrected in moments,
Dream state paralysis-are
You remembered tonight?
CONSCIOUSNESS
In the corners of your mind
Fragments of a long-forgotten dream
Memories-
Whispers from the past
Dancing in the twilight of the soul
A tapestry of moments
Shadows-
Vivid like a summer’s day
Guiding us an ode to the past
The threads that weave life’s
Art-
Painting each gap with twists that mend.
Alien Buddha Press 