Gone

Exotic songbirds who once sang gloriously

for all the world to hear

have vanished entirely.

We find their remains

only in a collection of thousands of bones.

Today there is nary a squeak out of the empty nest.

Once upon a time they staked it all so rapturously.

Once upon a time upside-down trees were the talk

of the breakfast shift.

Topsy-turvy trees. Trees to defy gravity.

Once they rose above Denali’s shadow, Sleepy Hollow,

sky-splitting peaksrushing riversfifty-mile views flew

over the rainbow.

Precisely.

Perfectly.

                 The sun dimmed its lights for one minute in their honor.

Out Of Synch

Imbalance is mans work.

We shift the scenery to suit

times momentary need.

We manipulate, enforce, disseminate,

alter and mutate.

The Atmas message of Truth

increasingly goes unheard.

Dichotomy: Our sun,

source of light, of life,

is the very pollen of the power plant.

A raw revelation

when all else in the Universe

seems to understand its place.

Cant we feel the molecular structures,

the yin-yang, the Tao,

the rapturous sound of Om,

the dragonfly’s message  so simple?

That we ever doubt this

                                 is wonder enough.