When the harmonica hits
Good harmonica
First heard and most unexpected in nature
Hits like a freight train in the middle of a walking path
Noone expects the mouth harp inquisition
Lol
Oblivious preservationists
A singular focus
In pursuit of collective vision
Can at least be understood
When a heart is truly open
And a minds vision is fully humbled
But a singular focus
I pursuit of self preservation
Constantly and obliviously
In the public domain
Is something I struggle with greatly
When will you wake up and see
That your brother is you
And that you are more than just you
Together we are we
And you are also me
W, ake up please
Asap
Silly wishes
Preconceived notions
Based on observations
Mean nothing at all
When you forget
Who the attributes are attached to
When really
It's the who
Which matters WAY more
That the color of her hair
Or the shade of his eyes
It is them
Not that w,hich
Defines
Your warmth, stay
Somedays my heart burns
With antacids and patriotism
With hope and admiration for the sun
Until the day is done
And other days are just cold
My limbs frozen and sore
Like a sycamore
Leafless in its Decembers disguise
Yet today I am neither
Since you are near to me
And very much alive in my life
I am dry and free as an autumn leaf
Stay here forever with me?
Saria
A new type of teacher
Teaching fact is true indeed
And valuable most certainly
For a tool is a tool even in rusted use
But trust, and faith, and better personal place
These things I much prefer to teach
As they are both more challenging
And far rewarding
To use
No student ever learns nothing
From you
Engine, a tanka
When the second spark
Hits an already running
Engine of something
More than just an engine turns
Wheels spin free if stagnation
In The Distance
A distant mountain doesn't call
It simply is
And will be for long
You desire to climb
Or see
Or shake
Has no relevance on
Whether or not
The mountain with each morning wakes
We as humans set mountains up to be
Such wondrous things
Not for what they are
But for what they show us
From the peak
And knowing that
Sometimes
Is enough for me
I have climbed enough already I find
Though I wouldn't pass up a beautiful sight
If given the opportunity (to fly)
Beautiful and asleep
With trust as deep
As freah cut rivers and streams
In the earth of stone and fading green
The night with a grin
Smiles wide along with me
At my good fortune that I
Get to see you in such a sleepy state
While the world sleeps I
Get to see you at peace
Saria
Sudden Snow, A Tanka
A sudden snow storm
Crashes skies of March and blue
And I can only
Watch and wonder as the sky
Is embued with white once more
Lost is the opposite of Christ
Freedom is not nothing but time
Since time is mortal
And mortality isn't free
God is free
And free is free
And being with God again (someday)
Will be
If you belive that is
And have faith and flowing
All of which are free
Living purpose
It blows my mind
That others will not do
Or pursue
That which they feel called to do
What kind of life is that?
To not be willing to go
To grow
To move
Is that really you?
Pro tip
You are not that which you currently are
You are that which you are becoming tomorrow
What kind of life indeed is this
The best
A writers focus
Muses are muses
And saviors are saviors
And may you never confuse the two
I pray
New will not change who
New will not change who
Only peace will settle self
Into a new existence entirely
One without hard turns
Or prior sins
One in which you can finally be
The truest version of yourself
I need a change of focus
A stubborn painter
I pride myself on painting skies
Yet never want to touch a brush
When I'm outside
The irony is me
Dreams off command
Wishes are cheap
But dreams are at no man's command
No matter how much they try
And speak such commands into existence
They won't
Because you can't
A beautiful constant
Gray color peaks in
Through windows of Spring
Putting trees without leaves brown
And muddying streams until unknown
And I
Only wishing to see true color and then
Have to go to whichever room you are in
Just to see such lovely greens again
Not that I mind, mind you
My own mind will never complain of this truth
For all the slow bleeding colors of Spring
Cannot compare to the consistency of you
Saria