Ghost singers on the prairie.
Snug little home, hearthfire familial peace
against rage and winds. Stone and sacrifice.
Dust storms erode,
leave wastrel sentinels.
Far, in green glade mists
where ancient hymns are born,
chthonic wilds, primordial rune castings.
Building over eternity, silent, archetype of will, ponders.
Intrinsic senses, despair, bottomless sorrow, loss of intent.
At the root of desire, truest wish to be fashioned,
sold at price of who you were made against your nature.
Wooden ships sail eternal sea.
Journey ages within these circles, free.
Easy found trades, winds selling seeds.
Back to the gardens of pagan lore —
earth, air, sun, and transforming water.
We wander days of potent destiny,
telling the tale, deep mystical incantation,
of a possible age in birth.
Love song ‘tween man
we are not our ancestors
we are not religions
we are not lines on a map demarcated by war
we are earth made vital
we are seeking minds inviting partners
we are seed and core as skin sheds and grows anew
we are me and you and all we become, alone and together
we are as we agree, composed of dissonance and harmony
all lives matter
Make Peace The Issue