At Times, We

At times, we
Want so badly for something to believe in
That we will believe

At times, we
Want nothing more
Than for everything to go
As it is supposed to,
As it should,
As we so badly wish it would,
But just as often
We find
That life proceeds
In a direction unplanned and for which we are utterly

At times, we
Hope for the best,
That we might know ourselves
And that we might make good decisions
When confronted with choices
That we might look back and believe,
That we led a life worth living,
That we learned from our mistakes,
As well as the mistakes of others.

At times we,
Realize with utmost resolution
That life is not just a thread into which our lives are dyed
It is so much more.

Life is a collision
Of lives and their vibrations,
Of stories and of truths,
Of triumphs and of failures,
A surge of growth
And an eventual slowing of particles,
As we all are slowly woven
Into the fabric of time,
Into the history of all that we see,
Into a tapestry of time,
A witness to
And a chronicle of
All that transpired.

At times, we
All that has come before.


In a Cold State

We groan
And yawn
But contained
Within walls
Which house our forms
As well as the warmth which makes them so

We huddle
In sweaters
And under sheets
But restless
Waiting for the Earth to turn
Watching for the sun to rise

We live
In a cold state

The Flapping of the Smallest Feather Wings

The outcome of the daily weather does not depend entirely upon
The gusts of wind which carry over the oceans and seas
From the turning of the Earth
And the centrifugal force of its incredible mass
There are the most minute imperfections
Of beasts and of individuals
That shift the balance ever so slightly
But ever so crucially
The flapping of the smallest feather wings
Twisting in time
Across open plains many miles away

For every action
There is an equal and opposite reaction
A shifting in the universe in which the change occurs
Which ripples out
As a wave
Interacting with
Cancelling out and strengthening
Other waves and particles

We are responsible
Each and every one
For the impact that we have
On the environment and the lives we interact with
As our choices
Reach out far beyond ourselves
Into other worlds
Into other stories
Like extensions of ourselves
Through which we experience
The world around us

Some Moments

Some moments
Are never lost
But live on
In memories

We should hope
That the memories we forge
Are those based
On times of joy
And moments of progress
As well as those
That help to remind us where it is we came from
And the choices we have made
The risks that were taken
And the lessons that were learned

May memories that no longer serve as a healthy purpose
Slowly fade
Never to be entirely erased
But rather to lose their glow
And drift back into the landscape of what has been

Life, and the Path It Follows

The Earth is alive
Even when it is sleeping
Under so many layers
Of ice and debris
Clinging tightly
To the frozen ground
As loose debris blows
Gently over the layered snow
From place to place
In an equation far too complex to be captured within the realm of our understanding
An equation based on chaotic interaction
And chance
And a pesky little detail
Ascribed the title of “free will”
Or life
A far more complicated chain of events
And utterly overwhelming
In the eccentricities by which
It impacts the universe it interacts with
Which is in itself
Utterly unique and completely without equal
In the grandeur by which it is arranged
And the incomprehensible possibilities
That it could be arranged any other way
And enable our lives to carry out as they do
And carving
Little lines through everything we touch
Leaving reminders
That we were there
That we existed
And deeply impactful
To all of the other objects and living things
With which we share this space
To the situations that they encounter
As well as in the decisions they make when confronted with them
For we are a part of something far larger and more powerful than ourselves
And the path that it follows at it unfolds before all of our eyes
The stories that are written
The loves that are shared
And the marks that are left
In time
We build
A legacy that we are proud of
Marks that tells a story of truth and of honor
Of growth and of development
As we learn to be
Something more than just a collection of cooperating cells
Looking out for itself in a world of enemies and friends alike
But rather an active participant
In an experience shared
With everything we interact with
From the smallest of this worlds materials
To the massive stars and black holes that fill the night sky
All engaged in a cosmic dance
Through time itself
A movement which started
Far before we arrive
And will continue
Long after we are gone

The Cold Slips In

The cold slips in
Through the thin sheets of glass which separate
What lies within
From the outer world
And over time
A chill is felt
As hairs stand on end
A warning
A call for warmth and a reminder
That harsh conditions exist
Just inches from the space we inhabit
Improbable and yet
Here we remain
Huddled in structures constructed
From the dried remains of much taller organisms
Sealed with the earth
And made to shine
With any color under the sun

Each With Their Own Story to Tell

Do we not all exist
As figures in a grand portrait
Each second
In a cosmic still-life
Our lives existing
As well as between
Each vibration
Each motion
Each advancement of the scene?

We are all here
On an improbable
And utterly awesome
Sphere of space debris
That is spinning through space
And time
With a rapidity that we struggle to comprehend,
For our chance
To be.

Each one of us,
At one time or another,
Feel as if we are but side characters –
Our mere existence
Just a product of decisions made
Beyond our control
And without our awareness.

We may feel as though
Life is not for us to live,
To be observed,
But not to be participated in.

This is
Of course
An unsettling and ultimately false perspective.

In any given moment
There is,
By nature of the reality in which we exist,
No distance between,
No difference between,
Any one of us,
For we are all of the same beginnings
And will someday find ourselves subject to
The same end.
Fading in an out
Of an ever-changing world of light and matter,
None no more valuable,
Nor more despicable,
Than the last,
All worthy of love,
Of kindness,
Of respect and recognition,
As we are all just collections of matter,
Each unique
And each with their own story to tell.