Life, Life Is

Life is full

Of those thing of all

Both new

And old

And mundane

And insanely reassuring

To the point of knowing and blurring

Which is which

And what is what

And when you need to

Again return to new

But life

Good life

Is when mixed all these things are

Throughout and through

And with a lens of faith

Revived anew

And therein lies

The secret

Life

Spendings

The weirdest things

About and in this life

Are not us

In fact

But the space and time

And how we spend them

Forward back

See

The most difficult things

For a man to see

Are the self

And the act

And the very smeared line

Once drawn out in-between

Of this we forget

Almost daily and miss

Because we cannot

See

Coffee tanka

Black bean seeds of life

Fall down and out of favor

In the eyes of hands

Which reach for and decide these

Which chosen ones are coffee

Dearest love most true

How quickly I forget

When such a loving and living

Breathing and being

Blessing stand before me

As you

Dearest love most true

To me you are

Saria

Unbeing into being

Falling back

Like into snow

I rest now in

These simple tasks

Which pull my mind

Into a place of unbeing

Where all which falls is white

And these which were tasks

Like the bright dissipate

And I

Glided through them all and fell

Into a more settled place

Beneath the sky

Most quiet smile

There is a strengthening

Of soul

When not speech

Prevails

But instead

You hold

Onto the words of in

Without care for other men

But for yourself alone

You write not as whole

But in part

Difficult

Having a heart

Which beats so loudly

For a cause and being

So quietly hidden

Is not actually

A very easy thing

Indeed

When it comes to human beings

Being

In love with doing

What really matters

As compared to

What really pays

And is fleeting

And I have a heart such beat

Which is beating

Blood and leaves, a tanka

Regardless of these

Blood vessels alive inside

Bleed red perhaps yes

But it is green in which this

Spring blooming always resides

A heartfelt ask

Here within this quiet hum

Of all things unmade

I ask

You to make me anew

Show my feet where to move

And mind how to be

Quiet and at home with you

Once again

I’m am

And asking

Please

And then he was sent to prison

Falling from a gracious freedom

Is never a beautiful thing

Instead

It is the breaking of limbs

And the bruising of bones

And the shattering of family stained

Glass or not, it ends in a fall

And we are skin

In metal and plastic shells

See, a haiku

Keep praying to me

Asking how to look and see

And you will indeed

A worth or a spell in youth

A worth

And an negotiation

Are not the same

I find

In forming

An understanding of value

Which is shared between

So few

And negotiated so scarcely

Since

We are obsessed with what we are doing

On average

As compared to what it means

Or meant

When we did

Be it for a time

Or spell

As we were then

The embodiment of

Of it

The what we did

When we were young

Dear Host

You can design and scheme

And build and dream

All you want

For all your time (or most)

And yet if you help no one

With a do or try

Then what is the point

Of living

Dear host

Lone, a tanka

Given time to be

At last alone with the self

May provide no more

Than an answer of knowing

That you’ll never know itself

Destruct

Desire

Can drive a man

Like hunger forward

In many ways a motor

But hate

Can fuel a fire

Like no other stomach bile

Without ever quenching thirst

It will

It can

Destroy

Probably Unheard

Unknowing is this

A constant wish

To say more than goodbye

Or at least to understand

When the final one was

And the words were heard

As said

As is

As was

Goodbye

I love you

In defense of future self

Advocacy

Is

Such a

Hard fought thing

Even to

Understand

When it’s

For you

And your life

Which will be

Someday

Eye creases

Smiles fade

Back into neutral each night

As we rest

As we reset

And in our youth

Fade back into eyes

Both of rest

And of hope 

And of memoric surprise 

When we later look back

With both the same

And yet different 

Eyes

All and yet one

There is a valley between

All those sensory beings

Who sing beneath stars

And whisper to trees

Just a few miles betwixt

And then there is me

Who wishes soundly for voice

But can only hear songs and speech

In my own sky of mind

This is me

That’s them

And we are we