from here to the reality where nothing is timed but expenditure

how does the day dawn?
it didn’t
I’m not sure if that’s doves I hear
or the cat snoring

good old stomp has been wandering
upstairs for hours, now
not that I care very much

retreated to a hot bath to soak away
some of the pain
I always debate if I should get the back fixed
or if I should consider the ways of health
maybe take exercising a little more seriously

only time can say I ever did
was before ski season
and becoming at least a little more fit meant
falling down less
my motivations are pretty clear cut

for the most part
mornings are terrible
and early mornings doubly so

I want to be that old codger
that gets up before the sun
wanting more of a life not fraught with dreams
some kind of sense that makes
more than my struggle to come alive every day

though of course you know what you know
there is a certain absolutism
to dark and light
one can’t be the other

I decided it wasn’t doves or the cat
maybe the dog next door snoring
always a peaceful sound
relaxing to know that someone rests
a beauty to it…

I have no agenda
have thought about what it means
to be outraged
the process distresses some
like the world is better served
with no outward view

do contemplate the pros and cons
wonder over necessity
that and what becomes habit
the evolving of paths
and where steps lead

I suppose the hardest thing
is looking at the changes and seeing
what could be if no change had happened
and then contemplating if it all
should have been left alone

that’s the hardest
there is absolutely no benefit to the power
of the mind

the ease of switching gears in and out
between the known and the goal

no benefit to that creature we call the self
a dawn is only known to be close because of a clock
after all
otherwise I would simply be hoping
a dawn occurs

and I think that is the difference
if there is one

sometimes if life is too predictable
the confusion arises of chicken and the egg
the question
do I create my reality or does it create me?

I think much depends on levels of guilt
though I’ve never understood the draw to guilt…

if had it
I would be mad as a hatter right now
and the extent of it
is that I can’t wear hats because my head
is too big
I suppose I could make hats
if I really wanted to cover the top

wash it instead
and consider the trades of diversity
and how it is always fear

what I fear in the patterns
erupting too tightly
falling into themselves until repetition

that is my deepest worry

the other stuff
is a kind of nothing in a smile

a pass of time
one where waiting for the dawn
means an understanding for that

but I don’t wait
not the sort of wait that decorates

not much purpose other than
the next line

and the world is made out of spheres
planes are the birth
of limited brokerage

I partake of the norms
the warm cup
the quiet contemplation

the news and the daily puzzles
all fit their place

all fall into comfort and discomfort

and sometimes I think of the waste
how I could wake up and storm the world
with angles and proclivity

with all that has been instilled
from my very waking moment
to the now

a funny thing to reject the process
for the calibration never delivered

for the reception of a mind
that can call it good
even while bad remains
a dream

I suppose a part of me is furious
a deep part

that sees unraveling and explanations
going thinner as they spread

for instance
autocorrect is off
but this infernal machine insists
on capitalizing my i’s
and auto punctuation is off
but it does that, too

why? programming is not supposed to work that way
just a factor I don’t file or know
a deviation

a program battling out the right to place
down what is typed
and I’m losing that battle
I’m the program on the losing side

there seems no end to the settings that need adjust

calibration to a more thorough reality
as I await the dawn and consider how
too much needs altering

how the status quo does not see
the necessity I foresee

and there is the outrage….yes
but it caves inward a bit
with a heavy sigh

such a very strange world
so very strange that I can plot all the points
suffer every awful thing ever thought about me

and still
I decide nothing is worse than
than not having the best of all worlds
by alternatives

paths left unfinished

dawns left to the darkness
to the abject articulation
that all is well

because wells, after all….are deep

and thoughts can be light or heavy
what I think many don’t understand
is that sharing thought does not lighten them

these are not apples
what makes life easier is ease

all has been done before
considered before
the crux of it is to narrow
and widen gifts that see no ending

I never needed to beat puzzles of difficulty for
the sake of difficulty
that is one thing others don’t confirm

suppose I can offer that
it doesn’t thrill me to achieve
something artificially created difficult

the rise of ego is a paradox
the design of self a weathered vessel
the look outward and in
possess time

and I think about the war mongering
the usa deciding to be something of
anger and destruction

I hold that guilt in my heart
a wondering of where or how I foresaw
a feeling hard to describe
knowing the need to put down

when a dog is rabid
you put it down
this is what we have been taught

but what of the love of redemption?

see….it is better to sleep through the dawn
to not await and gnaw on pains
it is better to dream and float

efficacy is always relative
and degrees of relative await their calibration
wheels that turn
when better to sometimes remain still

listen to the snoring
smile inwardly at nothing
for joys reached and achieved

and move on

when you want others to find this place
there is an absolute of conformity

I just worry about what is happening in the world
and how we appear to have the dumbest of the dumb
at the controls
and I can never get a clear answer to spending
thousands of dollars on saving one

and the many have nothing to eat
to drink
to live at all
and then it is ownership….yes

big word
I thought the term ‘own responsibility’ was interesting
when I first heard it
especially when the bigger chore
is to let responsibility go

I, afterall, do not control the rise
of this sun
the dawn

what I control is my ability
to accept inevitability

or to not agree and fight
the distance

the farthest point where fear is a memory
fear is a need
one need that should not be fulfilled?
perception and conquest

I always look at such things
as, ‘it is a good day to die’
as foolish….fools and the motivation
of absolutism

no day is good to die
no night is forever

the dawn arrives, even now
and it did not depend on me

thank goodness it does not rely
on patters of a heart
so found, it is lost in the absence
of heart

in others

so known and spun
that I do not doubt the trials
what I doubt is doubt itself

part of me understands that if anyone decided
for the sun to not rise
it would remain dark

minds would break into that reality
just as this one
has broken on the shores of insanity

floored and harboring distant cries
and it was doves, yes
not snores, but
the morning doves sitting by vents

sound channeling downward
it was the birds
that always seem to know when dawn is close

more than me
more than me and my kind have any ability
what I know …all that I truly grasp
is that all frustration
is irrelevant

all life is wonder
all rest is the letting go of culpability
to remember smallness

falling back to the things that make matter make sense

outrage…I carefully made a Valentine
once, then ripped it up in fits that copied
monkeyed those who I had seen throw fits

but then the Valentine could not be repaired
I had to start over
and I just didn’t see that as my fault but a fault
of the lead that I followed

they don’t go over the repairing part
the desperation that comes before
self condemnation

haste to condemn follows through
….interesting thing
when at the time I only comprehended I was foolish
exploring burned bridges when I already
knew what they are

oh, so that’s that. and the sun alive
and risen now, while I hesitate to
conclude this thought
this keeping of the moment

a time that is special for the height of
it’s unbelievability
for you can sit back and deny it all

you can….I can.
yet the comfort within that is little
and the comfort in stretching once again
to a new skin…new skein of transport
is great

I am not what is seen
not what is heard
I am what is holding a place

and that place doesn’t have to have meaning
but it helps

wells are deep…so be well
cherish what is in the heart
and love the surface
the abstract consternation
that begins

when night and all of its misunderstandings

eyes can open and close
but minds are the worlds of realities

dawn is a metaphor
a blank check
and the revelation must lead away from pain…

guilt is a secondary thing
devining our place in the world, our nation
is a goal of ego

when ego must be left begging
must be left behind somewhere farther than I can see
somewhere near the mind of god
ego limps and dissolves
gives itself up to wonder and confliction

understood, but never under-standing
no reason to be here
but that here is necessary

we have fought so many wars
fought so many ways for pride and life
and connection

fought for the desire to even not desire

fought for industry and fought for the right
of nothing and no one

fought to bring this to the apex
fought for deliverance from fighting

for the compliment of peace that never seems to come when all is important
and nothing is important enough

fought for the meaning to believe
and that meaning is to leave all battles
to end battles by welcoming likeness

I hear the owl, now
strumming out its declaration
man is a fool!
a fool that loves and fights
burns and breeds
we fought for way too long for way too little
but I fought something different
poised to care

it is only peace
only the the dissolution of angst
that holds enough power

to see the dawn.
no fight matches the hold

to know the sun rises
even as my own needs
my own declaration of self satisfaction

the bough bends but it doesn’t break
there will be an answer
but it must be to turn away from war
it must be to take the harder path

of peace


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