Rovers of Eternity

Seeking a mythic landscape

Where wild wind waves in 

Come hither branches and

Leaves of cottonwood trees

Dancing in ecstatic bliss rhythm

Happy, Alive and Awake

A living breathing Dryad!

A nearly unending mind

Flowering for countless millennia

Through seasons of grief and joy

Calling to the few who will stop to listen

To the song it sings

To the tale it tells

Beneath this ever-expanding blacktop flapjack of earth smother

Countless zig-zagging trails of animal intent

A mycelial webwork of interlacing desire paths

And I wonder; what shape would I find if I traced my path along the surface of Earth?

A repetitive cycle- home-work-home-work-home-work-home-work----

Here

Of course, that is merely the vegetable body

Ambling to and fro along IT”S desire path of SURVIVE OR DIE necessity.

Saint Francis’s “Brother Ass” 

There are other paths I roam…

Language rivers of deep, endless word wonder

Investigating an ancient telepathic link with Gaia

Searching for a genuinely inspired novel expression of

The Living  Mother Tongue

 Then: how to hold such depth in mere mental code?

Alphabetical data?

IMPOSSIBLE!

But, let the voice ring

Allow the breath to sound out the Primal Warblings of these vibrating strings of meat 

And here a spell might be cast

Or broken!

To wake while others are sleeping means dreaming while the world around us moves along it it’s slow, ordinary way

While we wander liminal zones along cosmic ley-lines that connect us back- All the way back to the blank black beginning beyond which we can go no further back without stepping into Myth

If we stop in the forest to listen

Even the wind in the ear may tell

A haunted tale 

Of lovers enflamed

And mad, desperate grappling angels

We’re learning to serve the story

To observe the fable

Beneath the surface of earth

Beyond the sky of mind

To let the story tell itself

Through our own curious seeking

And sounding out of words

Among the glittering remnants

Of these last days of Empire.

One taste is all it takes

We work and we wait and if we’re writing when a witches whisker whispers of mystic aether and the shine of the moonstar bespokes all luminous being 

We touch for that brief bright singular moment- 

ETERNITY -Minding it’s own business of settling in across these spacious loquacious Nebraska summer skies.

“Eternity in an hour” said William Blake- Root Romantic Prophet Poet

But, these doors of perception are decorated with

Twining ivy and goat footed gods

Spanish moss dripping from the wild one’s antlers

Whipping the winged horses to a mad gallop across the vast expanse of sky

A piece of the fable

Breaking through

To the tale we tell ourselves about how we came to be here today

We are Learners of the Ancient Rhyme

Turners of the Page of Time

Lovers of the Land and Sea

Rovers of Eternity