forever, it flowed to the sea: hot orange rock, thick liquid rolling, down to the sea, too hot to imagine. bright orange in darkness, flowing lava makes such a festive nighttime show for all the tourists. steam hisses as liquid rock hits the ocean waves. cooling boulders fall even further, under the waves until something stops them.
unknown fruit, on unknown trees and i don't know what to think. green on green: it makes one wonder what it may imply: quick painful death or maybe delight? small birds may show us what to taste. if nothing eats the unknown fruit, we should remember: nature has a certain wisdom.
from high above, i look at rushing waters, spilling over wet and rounded rocks. our lives too sometimes rush, spilling over rocky dangers, where we might smash, breaking ribs and more, desperately struggling in wild torrents, gasping for air. from cliffside outlooks, it all looks beautiful and peaceful. but sometimes in rushing tumults, we learn desperation, beaten by wild currents, we sometimes survive.
under a blistering tropical sun, suffocating heat drove us to find shade, we found a beautiful tree, and shade. that day we found the beach with no name, where only locals ever went. visitors could go elsewhere, to famous places. we went native, and benefitted from local kindnesses and friendship.
ten thousand feet above the sea a fallen tree can't rot away. its bones are bare and stark we see it lies a dead thing, as we gasp for thin and icy air we understand how the tree came to fall ten thousand feet above the sea
broken bamboo tops lie in a heap on top of fibrous roots, a wind-storm smashed that bamboo grove. we find the scene exotic and a little alien; this is not our world. years and miles pass by too quickly we will learn; a jungle cataract falls from a towering cliff, its source a mystery we'll never solve. this bamboo doesn't care; it grows again beside sweet lacey ferns, a warm wind blows. we came so far and see (that's how it goes). rain drops from sudden clouds above as we drink it in, the gods are making love.
a beach with no name, where the lava flowed down to the sea, a secret place, not on any map, but a friendly local told us we should go. such a quiet, private place in paradise! no other tourists, we listened to waves smashing on lava rocks the sound of seabirds and the south pacific! a beach with no name, where the lava flowed down to the sea, a secret place, not on any map
under the cedars BX creek washes a very tiny world. we step carefully, leaving no footprints, witness to our passing. like ants, we walk our pointless paths, insignificant in many ways, and like to think ourselves so important. but we are not. a lttle water washes rounded rocks, the cedars know. that water is essential. we need it too, cleansing and refreshing, some kindness to our souls.
Solitary Skeleton under all the conifers, i see a lonely skeleton, and understand part of what i see. i myself have a solitary aspect. my bones carry my flesh; my body carries me. a day will come, no doubt, when i too, am stripped to bone, like a mushroom, which i still don't understand in full detail. and though we all want company, my day will come: i will be solitary, and go meet the beautiful light.
Badlands no.12 the rains came down for millions of years washing away rock (was sand, packed hard and turned to sandstone.) memories stir and i want to return to a place and time a little beyond my grasp. beside me, a small dog sleeps in peace. envy stirs, as i fight sleep like a tired toddler. rock never sleeps, time's rivers wash it slowly to the sea, one grain of sand at a time.