When I chance to go afield
to harvest the wild places' yield
of the myriad sights and sounds
which in this sylvan spot abounds

Matters not how far I stray
once it comes the end of day
like an old trained milking cow
I know where I must head to now

To the warm hearth of my home
at the finish of the long day's roam
and the ever young girl I call wife
with whom I've shared most of my life

my logic in a tartan knapsack of my
scientific mind,
i searched until i found who
was who, looking for the
essence that is me
behind the pontifications of the
ego that would be mine

i traveled every well-known path
worn and frayed around the edges
until i was smooth as a
stone in the river of my being,
i trudged the meanings of what it means
to be until
immersed with every shade of green
in the constancy of my open heart
echoing pineapple winds of change

Distant thunder grumbles discontent
here at dimming of day's light
as the storm builds
in brilliant flashes

This tempest erupted suddenly
an hour ago skies were clear
then the sky exploded
from a kernel, like popcorn
latent energy
unleashed

Now set into random motion
direction determined by chaos
and of duration
short

Such is the very nature
of life's storms
so often seen
so seldom endured

Someone waits in Timelessness
dreaming The Path for me;
guiding me through the school of manifest
and the bedrock of eternity.

Someone is Being in authentic divinity.
I’m costumed in my stardust machine.
Together we dance in our own special feature
brought through to life through our own unique dream.

Who is dreaming the dream I am walking
in the ageless I of consciousness?
Who is directing the strokes of the brush
Which, little by little, paints my eternalness?