When I 
write this 
way I
imagine you 
and I 
side by
side swinging 
on tires
attached to 
our favorite 
far off 
tree in
what’s left 
of summer 

Imagine if you will
walking down a path 
and while walking you 
encounter other paths one 
perhaps into wood one 
perhaps into valley and 
maybe another up mountain 
and every additional path 
you encounter different journeys 
some are challenging while 
others seem easy and 
others almost seem impossible 
and during each you
meet others some who 
guide some simply passing 
and some genuinely confused 
a few others curious 
some defiant and others 
lackadaisical confident of their 
mistake upon choosing it
this is your souls 
purpose whether or not 
you admit or admire
acquiesce or inspire others 
this is simply you 
it has been you 
and always will be 

All people are 
interesting but most
people aren’t interested 
so they speak 
before spoken to 
they rant they
scream and they 
defend because everyone 
no matter who
needs to hear 
their own voice 
for one’s voice 
is all that 
one ever knows 
to confirm that 
they ever existed 
just like puppies 
who surprise themselves 
after they bark 
the first time 

The winds of wisdom 
blow steadily from east
to west and from 
north to south sometimes 
from one and sometimes 
from all the all
of wisdom’s winds fury
is called a torrent 
a storm of madness 
too much to bear
except for a very 
few who can withstand 
and even fewer who 
can absorb and afford 
jeer not those who 
seem speechless for just 
like babies unable to 
utter a single word 
they likely know far
more and soon forget 
what before birth learned 

His favorites are
the harvest moons
it is because 
I think that 
upon those he 
wished his hardest 
and if there’s 
only one thing 
I’ve ever known 
about him it’s 
that his heart 
is just as
big and bright 
and that it’s 
now my very 
own harvest moon