Tag: nature

This mother died in childbirth
In the hopes of children
That may one day fly.

Though your body
Provides good ground for roots
One day they will tear them out
And soar above us all.

What could be a better
Picture of salvation?

Casting aside bark and personal gains,
To let the next generation
Grow right through the memory of you.

– Vagabond Prophet

Orange Glow

Tell time by the fire

By the licking of the flame

By the smouldering of embers.

Stirred from the ashes of yesterday

And still warm enough

For today’s beginning.

The orange glow at night

Echoing the orange glow of morning,

While at the same time

The dark of night is upheld

By twinkling distant lights,

For those nocturnal creatures

To hang their silhouettes.

It’s important to stay awake

Into the black hours

Where no city lights dare

Tarnish the sky with greasy fingers

To notice just how brightly coloured the night is.

– Vagabond Prophet

Campfire Thoughts

Heat taking form so long

As it has something to climb

And eyes to sting.

Standing on the shoulders

Of noble planks gone black

In the name of warmth,

In the name of romance,

In the name of mesmerizing

Souls like mine for hours on end.

Quieting and emptying

A restless mind.

Oh to surrender to that

Unstoppable goodness

So much harder than evil

Which always molds to your fancy.

– Vagabond Prophet

Backtracking Majesty

I am arrested by love

Incarcerated by affection.

I once walked the withering sands alone,

Burning these pale soles black,

Sweat stinging these blue eyes shut.

I used to tread the coals of hot regret

Until I noticed some backtracking majesty.

I saw still morning lakes

Reflecting things much deeper

Than themselves.

Saplings with supporting rods,

Even twigs need a father

Something to grow in the shadow of

Learning not to turn all blooms

Away from but towards the sun.

That trees need no language,

Soil needs no tongue

They speak to each other

With yearning twisted fingers

And thrive upon the embrace.

The sun has no agenda

Yet the mountains bow

Before the glory every morn.

Rain that kisses the land

To lend a helping land

When the fields cry out

With dry lips and parched throats.

No paperwork, no formal requests

Only simple needs simply stated.

Every rockslide applause

For the sky it could never reach,

Every thunderstorm a parade,

Fireworks celebrating

The end of another drought.

Finally the people who dare to trust,

Loving and giving to people

Who can never pay them back.

Working fingers to the bone

To help others find a home,

In this world full of shadows

Finally shedding some light

By trusting and striking

Some matches on the rocks.

So yes I am not my own,

By love I am arrested

My deepest sins contested

And at times even jested,

That I would be such a fool

As to sojourn alone.

By grandeur so big it’s hard to see

I am swallowed whole

And spat back out a whole person,

With a whole soul

That is freely yet completely

Given to the one who soothed

My aching feet and breaking heart.

– Vagabond Prophet

Grip

Grip tightly to the bravery

Caught at brightest noon

When your form casts no darkness

Behind itself.

Grip tightly through

The long evening shadows

And the deep black of night

Until the sun boldly climbs the hills again.

– Vagabond Prophet

Antlers

Antlers sharp and many pointed

Broader than shoulders

Threatens without words,

Lean and muscular

Bounding high into the sky

Fences meaning nothing.

These creatures wise without books

Knowing the language of the wood

Hissing in the whispered wind

And threatening in it’s quiet.

Knowing things by instinct,

Meaning that nobody knows

Just how it knows things.

Aware that given long hours

In sunlight some things bleach

And some things burn.

Ears turn around

As my feet the ground pound,

You already know

By the shape of my thorax

That I’m rather different.

You vanish as you smell me,

You taste my breath on the air

And foresee that I always fail

More thoroughly than I succeed

I just might try to spare your life,

So naturally you’re afraid.

– Vagabond Prophet

Vapour falls so heavily
Starting streams of its own
Leaving trails on the rock
Carving stone over time.

Nobody knows if trails
Join back up
Or branch out on their own
Without following each one
To its greatest length.

Water most immeasurable
And beyond capacity
Both of comprehension
And containment.

– Vagabond Prophet

Nooks and crags
Hard and rough to the touch,
Stories hidden deep within
Somewhere between
The rings and the sap.

Hardest foundations
For the tenderest of shoots,
Finest green needles
Homes for nomads of the forest.

Towering over all
The only witness of history
And with tightest lips
You perform interpretive dance
With your roots underground,
Accomplices in beauty
Can’t help but join the show.

– Vagabond Prophet