another one from the archives, also without a title...

Hoofprints left behind,
Sunken memories in the mud.
Spring reveals all that's been hidden and forgotten.

Let the wounds back open.
Feel. Hurt.

Summer will be soon enough,
Here to dry the cuts in time to heal.
Play wildly in bliss.

But for now, sink your feet into the earthy sorrow.
Let the ground soak up the pain.
She may make us weep, but
Mother Earth holds fast to her children.

Stand, grounded.
Feel. Hurt.

Hurt, but be comforted.
The Sun's rays can singe the skin,
With bits of hope.

An urge always exists,
To jump in,
Float in the water,
Let it wash you away,
To nothing.

But please,
Stay here.
Feel. Hurt.

an oldy, untitled

I am lost, but I can only find myself.
Waters rush, cleanse my mind.
Wind blows, blow it all away.
Hide nothing from the Earth.
Rampant, naked ritual.
In this lies a wicked hallucination.
Truth.
Natural truth.
Only truth.
Alive.

Balasana

Laying open in my own dark abyss,
I grasped the void,
Groped the nothingness in search,
Of what, I cannot describe in words.

There is a yearning to explore,
To tumble, somersault, and explode in this space:
Means to no end.

For eternity I could live in fancy,
Act out the motions of dreams,
And dream as far as a dreamer cannot realize.
Beyond.
Still nothing can be realized.

Is living in-fancy akin to infancy?
Am I stuck in child's pose,
Nose to the ground, listening to the Earth for a truth?

Breathing in through the ground,
Earth's whisper and vibrations fill my veins.

Perhaps this simplicity is all I need.
Invigorating the mind with breath and being.
Forget the yearning,
the material.

Breathe.