Dusty Light

Shards of light peek through the wooden ceiling
through holes up above in the knotted wood
with specks of dust swirling in the slight golden rays
as I lie in this windowless room
that's all musty dark and safe feeling
with eyes half closed and wanting to close my mind
to shut out the happenings at present
but you can't close your mind
no matter how hard you try
**********************************

Opening eyes under water
to catch a glimpse of the rising sun
pouring down in sheets of bright
like a shining crown of blood red and gold

whispering along a wooded lane
to find a path to jubilation
to seek the way to exaltation
in finding the secret to happiness
and reveling in the relief of the discovery

breathing in the smell of rain on the sidewalks
to try to feel something fully at all
to get past the poison that encases the mind
in its own world of never quite
with no way of getting out
and feeling the block of mental walls
that keep you from feeling anything
without the solid weight of the wall in the way

can you slide away the poison of the past
so it disappears and you can feel again?
so you can look at the world without half gray eyes
like sitting in the six a.m. rain
by the street in London or in a hotel room in Ontario

is there a way to stay
in the harmonica sounds and swirling guitars?
in the Mediterranean waves with the boats passing by
where no one drowns the positive swirl
of this intrinsic fairy tale optimist world
where pain is tired swimming legs and aching lungs
and my own understanding of the world fits happily

the king or the tyrant is not the victim
no matter what the talk says in the public apologies
the victim is the slave
who is subject to the social structure
with no one around to help
and no one to listen when they call out
or shout into the night

is my spirit dying?
or is it just dormant?
I would prefer it to be dead than dying
so it would not be so painfully present
or for something to wake it up
and keep it awake with warm blood in the heart
like warm ocean waters fuel the whales
to sing their songs for thousands of miles
the monsters of the deep whose secrets and lives
far outweigh any petty human creation
or mark upon the world

and they know it's time to go
but still they linger to look at the stars
and take in the all encompassing expanse of the night sky
and dream that it's a dream

I am not afraid
I never have been
of much of anything
but I feel stagnant
and that is almost more of a punishment
especially when you thrive on the burn of a challenge

when sandstorms block out the faces of all those around you
and fireballs cascade into the side of the hill
then the end times are near
and the wind will howl with a drowning scream
so that is when we must run for the ground
and scramble underneath into a warm burrow
where the evils of the earth cannot reach a sleeping soul

shine on in the hearts of man
you lovely imperfection you
that crafts passion and thirst with measured hand and even pace
that makes beauty shine and the towers lean
slanting towards the warmth of the sun
so they never fade away

I have never been comfortable with things fading away
I want everything to stay the same
where I can run back into the woods and find escape in the night
and breathe in the scent of milkweed and butterfly bushes
and rest my hand against the old warm wood
but I don't live there anymore

I will never surrender
and I will never let myself fade
but I can't make that promise for other people
who might fade away into the half light
half awake in their minds
and that is the one thing that scares me the most
out of anything in this world
and maybe the only thing that could break me

Perfumed colors fly on the winds and the breezes
in the evening summer air
with firefly lights and warm night glow
and smells and sights and sounds

The past is there
like a hanging cloud
and still it stays
always there