Lonely

My ears tune-in to the sweet sound of the sparrow,
whistling high pitched songs just o'er the rocky ledge;
and the wind blows a howling reminder of a life
grown cold, blowing away memories; my body
lies still, the once spirited wheat now flattened
beneath me, matted down by the heaviness
of my burdens; my eyes stare up into a sky of
emptiness, a fitting resemblance of my soul; to
wonder if there really are others stirring about,
in a time when I feel so alone; tree branches
sway above my resting place, a single leaf
falls to the ground; there is silence as I watch
even the sun fade away, running from me, afraid
I will reject its warmth; I am smaller than imagined,
surrounded by much taller things, like the wheat
that escaped my burden; what is life without the
pleasantries of greatness, an existence known
solely to one; it is hollow, relying on external
influences, to fill it, to comfort it, to make it whole;
yet, so many, as I, oppress such fields of beauty,
of whom don't have the hands to hold us up; and
the ground, cold and damp, reminds the fallen, the
defeated, we are warmer still; where is my rabbit
hole, my heart is heavier than my flesh can bare
and needs to fall deeper that what I can offer, it's
weight, like I to this bed of strangled wheat, takes my
air, my hope, to stand tall once again.

An empty wish

What is a wish without something

To wish for; like a well without

Water, an ocean without salt.

Yet, what is a wish that is useless

In meaning; like something that

Only benefits the wisher.

And, when a wish is made over

An eyelash, or a flower, or even

A coin, is it truly a genuine wish?

However, twenty long years have

Passed since I made a wish, with

Closed eyes, and a silent prayer.

Wish after wish, year after year,

I wished only to know how your

Life had turned out for you.

Now, my wish, and maybe yours

Too, has been answered, and the

Whole world will benefit.

And, the well will flood with

Spring water; the ocean will be

Overflowing with new salt.

The eyelash will land perfectly,

Upon the face of a new tomorrow,

And the flower’s seeds will blossom.

The coin, the many coins, that I

Bent over to pick up, hold more value

Than what is shown upon their faces.

All because a wish was made that

Held meaning; more than wondering

Without belief of wishes coming true!

Growth

I often wonder of the pangs felt
by the tree that has grown
for many years; stretching tall
and weathering storms and
standing alone in one place.

Yet still, to this day, my mind
cannot escape the thoughts
of mountains reaching higher
and beaches eroding in salt
as the earth remains one size.

Tomorrow may bring more
changes in shapes and in the
weather throughout the planet
but does it ever just want to
calm and be still?

And I question my own
growth, so much in body
and in mind and in spirit
but all so quick as a person's
time is unlike that of the tree.

So few days a person
wanders, the pangs of growth
never ceasing to exist, though the
ceasing of sunrises and moon
settings are almost extinct.

How does the tree do it,
continuing to expand without
ever having a feast with its'
neighbors or a university to
attend and cram for tests?

Yet it stands, still and alone,
only surrounding by others
alike, which must be the key
to its lasting for so long; to be
among those that can relate.