The Old Song of the Tribes
The sky draws its curtain
across the season. Any day
now it will snow, curtaining
the footprints in the soft earth
we made today, but any day in this life
or another, if I meet you, the earth's
pull will be upon us, the mark of the forest
will be on us, indelible handprints, birthmarks.
We will know each other in city or forest,
despite continents and oceans, we will know
each other as much, as little as
we know ourselves, as much as we know
what the mind is, what the body
can be. Amidst
all the changing, our souls will remain
true to each other. The rest can be mist.
upstream from white sand beaches are hamlets, paddies and canyons bombshells unexploded, cratered land, cratered faces mangled extremities...
The sun may be clouded - yet ever the sun , Will sweep on it's course 'til the cycle is run. And when into chaos the system is hurle...
We get caught up in monikers and labels...I'm much more conservative than most conservatives, much more libertarian than most libertari...
I need a song. I need a song like a river, cool and dark and wet, like a battered old oak; gnarled bark, bitter acorns, a song like a dr...