These Forgotten Stories Haunting

Hearing
stained wooooh
strained whooosh
rise, fall, push, pull back
quieting and moaning,
crying, sobbing, groaning
creaking and repose
the wind asks…
whyyyyyyy
whoooooo
whhhyyyy
ohhhhhh
sigh
tumblr_n5evwlg5om1tb4osfo1_500
It’s that question
that drives us skimming
across Lake Life edgy
bobbing in the troughs and crests
yet never to the sandy shore
and glowy fires merry.

It’s that rough splinter
in our minds digging
all the time and all around us…
why…
why

You see
Stories are descended from
on High like waterfalls and
we are born too, like
waterfalls flying
from the stars
cascading
down to
here
tumblr_n79z2vDoaP1smipnlo1_500

into this world
starkly unique
and populated
with stories,
pregnant with
multiple meanings

(us and this world/one not one)
tumblr_nqrijnL8gn1qat5pio1_500

Here I am on the edge
of the gleaming twilight
nudging, jostling my life
in waves and I’m still wondering
what it’s all about…

I think it’s about a Splinter from
some Bloody Beam so Ancient…
Our minds are splintered, peppered,
made numb with pressing inquiry
tumblr_l8uob9VyZq1qb9cz3o1_r3_500

The first thing I remember
about this world
and I pray it
may be the last
is that I am
a stranger
in it,
a9824563637112815ed9759fe37cecaf
at once a glory
and a desolation.
That’s the only thread
of consistency I can detect
in my lakey leaky life,
alone before a mind-boggling
array of options and
burdened by both
the responsibility and the authority
to reach some conclusion
that isn’t totally and completely
rooted merely in myself
(where’s the joy in that?)

Life itself is its own exile,
and its own inevitability,
but that does not lessen our grief
or alter the fact of us in the whirring
midst of that sighing windy whyyyyy
1c921c2f1f945d5bfb1975f4819f4a74
Life became history and history
becomes legend and legend
begat myth and myth begets
merging slowly with unknowing
and unknowing bemoans

“it was all forgotten…”
(which infers remembering)

“real but forgotten”
(real and forgotten)
and passed and past…
but the echoes
the echoes
echoes

the echoes of our distant past
and our essential vital nature
still call out to us in wind,
in wind and waves
in dreams.

And They are calling us in wind,
in wind and waves
in…
These Forgotten Stories Haunting
tumblr_o10vn603vd1svkk09o1_1280

One thought on “These Forgotten Stories Haunting

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s