Phantom almost memories

To live as past

The days of past

Is a familiar way

Of known around

And yet I

Still am me

With nothing left

To be

These phantom

Almost memories 

Sounds like sky

And earthy trees

Which I like to see

And sometimes hear 

When driving past

Permits

Thinking of my own memories now, and others too

If memories could speak

And converse as us

Like the whispering trees

And faded skies above

Which hollow into reds

And above dying leaves tread

Down and across old paths of time

Then we as humans

And these beings of part

Once separated from the whole

Would never seek

To see another sky again

Out of blissful pain seeking

Rememberence missed

Instead our eyes are foward

Not back

Rivery Haiku

Here runs a little

Moves alot of heaviness

These streams and rivers

A tanka, smiling down in rememberence

This tanka almost

Whispers like falling snow tears

From the eyes of skies

Out of which pours down a smile

Even painfully alive

Ownership

Owning a space

Is so different than providing

Than striving

Than thriving

And even failing itself

Comes with its own

Give and take

Of another nature yet prevailed

To me

To see

To all those around

We are in fact

Players in a game of fading dawn

The kind of day to night which always

Prevails

Searching for patterns forever in others

Consistency is

What other humans do like

Because then they find

And do think they know

What is expected of you

But in growth

In true growth

There is something to be said

For this growing together

For these experiences true

And in the untangling of self

And self fault as well

There, there is to be found

Many horizon to try and abound towards

With each and every day anew

And you should

We should

Do

Tanka, tentative, perhaps

A minimal yes
Is not a yes at all true
But just a maybe
A mix of might just be
But probably wont be you

Open spaces and a tanka

Where sunlight never

Fades but falls like light room clouds

Where intuition

Soars beyond there winter shrouds

Like the dove above is now

Red lump (perspective)

Perspective is the warmth

Of a glowing molded

Red lump of burning coal

And in turning over you find

Not a cooler side at all

But a warmth of same

And an appreciation of heat

And a refining of new

And a new take on old

Or so I feel

Hunting and finding, to find

Worship not the restless soul
Or the little corner of your own puzzle
Which seems to fit that hole

Instead
Just breathe
And be with being held

In an embrace of knowing
That summers turn
Will in due time unfold

Just know
And
Be

An ebbing earth

The elements of one kind

Or another

Kill that which you did not notice

On a day after day

Basis of seeing or un

And regardless we fade

Like the bright sun in the sky

Around the earth and away

Into oblivion tomorrow

So we fall like the shade

On the cooler side of life

And away

So we

Like the tides

Return and away

Always

Wonderful truth

Even at the point of get

There will always be

An ever present

Essence of

Wonder

Knowing Steps

Knowing steps

Before you take

A single shoe

Or foot before

Shows nothing of find

But everything of plan

And of hope and desire

For an experience true

So as far as you know

You knew

Take it

Living Secure and Sure

The only type of living

You are required to do

Is not for any human

Or even self secured

Though both can be paths

Taken down by the heart

The only type of living

Secured

Is when you learn to give up

Give back and be a part

Of a plan more immense than your mind can impart

On its own

Not alone

That is Christ

And life through Christ speaks more beautifully

More comfortingly

And more knowingly

Than even the most impactful art

You've ever see or felt

This

Eye controlling

A temptation is only as strong
As you let it be
And by proximity put
Yourself within arms reach of wrong
And I see

Such men as these
Who know
Both where they do
And do not most certainly
Belong

And that is what makes
A true amirative stength
So strong
So pure
And so true of mind that you cannot help but respect it so

A tanka, mixing

A mixing type of
Beneath the rivers above
Yields a beautiful
Bright casting slab of pure white
Of which hands wish to press in

Lisms Inside

Young hearts beat

And old hearts beat

But idealism are not alive

Yet they live inside

These few named we

Who think their eyes can see

A new dawn befor the next day has arrived

And such is the plight

Of those minds who might

Lose themselves in a day

And waste every dying light

On a tomorrow perhaps

On a next time which just might

Therein truth come

But more than likely the light

Was just spent in the eyes

Of a questioning and contemplative

Alike

And the last day is gone

Though you may still yet live alive

Cover laughs

A statement flies

In the face of a joke

As if someone who wrote

Could tell you anything

(Real)

About something of an experience felt

Or of feels

Do you see?

From title to author why

That seems

Almost laughable

To me

?

Hence the humanity

Humans tap the earth

As if

Either mother or nature

Cares for us a bit

When rocks are rocks

And all of this

These paganistic

Ritualist rits

Tear fibers and stands of the sky away

As we humans lead

Each our other ones

Astray

As if we know anything at all of dark skies

Or of molten caverns where no man can pass

We are wishes and hopes

Our thoughts a formative gas

And so this we were meant to be

On the outside of a knowing always

Hence the humanity

A light, not soundful, haiku

Dripping through the clouds

Like a raindrop falling down

So is light not sound