The Form of Sound

What once was

will be

All these things come together

within the fold

of time and space

consciousness gives rise

to the ten thousand things

embracing the joys and sorrows

of an everunfolding creation

What will become of us?

Who is to say what will be?

Every day another piece of the puzzle falls into place

What time is it anyway?

I’m guessing, just to be sure, why not.

Poetry

What do you hope to gain

by all of this?

Neither fame nor fortune can tell

Who is behind the mirror

They say the best man is the master of himself

that no other mastery counts for more than this

Is time the one thing that money cannot buy?

or is it Love?

Poetry

Philosophy is easy

but relating is hard

I ask myself why

The answer eludes me

How does one relate

to another?

How do you bridge that gap

between the worlds of two people?

How do you achieve intimacy?

How is it sustained?

Standing in the dark

I reach out my hand

hoping you are there

Poetry

My thoughts
Sometimes echo like the eagles cry
Sometimes wander and burble like the mountain stream
Sometimes whisper like the wind through a deep forest
Sometimes ebb and flow like the tide
Or crash and thunder like great waves upon the shores of consciousness
Sometimes they come in fits and starts
Sometimes seeming to disappear altogether
Only to reappear again in new form or dimension
Funny

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Poetry

Echoes of endless nights
Rising on endless mornings
A camera shutter blinking
Snapshots of eternity

Poetry