A DREAM IS JUST A DREAM..

If a dream is just a dream, 

something that happens in your mind 

while you're asleep, 

then that's alright. 

It's yours to take with you into the morning, 

and it fades away there in the light. 

But when the dreams start to come while you're awake,

and they come with the light, 

then that is not all right. 

What we look for then is other people 

who have dreamed what we've dreamed, 

who have seen what we've seen. 

When the dreams become real, 

sometimes the only comfort you can find 

is in knowing that you're not alone.

~ Taken

BENEATH THE SKY

My mother always talked to me a lot about the sky. 

She liked to watch the clouds in the day, 

and the stars at night

... especially the stars. 

We would play a game sometimes, 

a game called, 

what's beyond the sky. 

We would imagine darkness, 

or a blinding light, 

or something else that we didn't know how to name. 

But of course, that was just a game. 

There's nothing beyond the sky. 

The sky just is, 

and it goes on and on, 

and we play all of our games beneath it.

~ Taken

My Son ...

You will be different, 

sometimes you'll feel like an outcast, 

but you'll never be alone. 

You will make my strength your own. 

You will see my life through your eyes, 

as your life will be seen through mine. 

The son becomes the father 

and the father becomes the son. 

~  Kal-El

THE NIGHT DANCE

The Night Dance

Strike the gay harp! see the moon is on high, 

And, as true to her beam as the tides of the ocean, 

Young hearts, when they feel the soft light of her eye, 

Obey the mute call, and heave into motion. 

Then, sound notes -- the gayest, the lightest, 

That ever took wing, when heaven look'd brightest 

Again! Again! 

Oh! could such heart-stirring music be heard 

In that City of Statues described by romancers, 

So wakening its spell, even stone would be stirr'd, 

And statues themselves all start into dancers! 

Why then delay, with such sounds in our ears, 

And the flower of Beauty's own garden before us -- 

While stars overhead leave the song of their spheres, 

And, listening to ours, hang wondering o'er us? 

Again, that strain! -- to hear it thus sounding 

Might set even Death's cold pulses bounding -- 

Again! Again! 

Oh, what delight when the youthful and gay 

Each with eye like a sunbeam and foot like a feather, 

Thus dance, like the Hours to the music of May, 

And mingle sweet song and sunshine together.

~ Thomas Moore

MY TRIUMPH

My Triumph

The autumn-time has come; 

On woods that dream of bloom, 

And over purpling vines, 

The low sun fainter shines. 

The aster-flower is failing, 

The hazel's gold is paling; 

Yet overhead more near 

The eternal stars appear! 

And present gratitude 

Insures the future's good, 

And for the things I see 

I trust the things to be; 

That in the paths untrod, 

And the long days of God, 

My feet shall still be led, 

My heart be comforted. 

O living friends who love me! 

O dear ones gone above me! 

Careless of other fame, 

I leave to you my name. 

Hide it from idle praises, 

Save it from evil phrases: 

Why, when dear lips that spake it 

Are dumb, should strangers wake it? 

Let the thick curtain fall; 

I better know than all 

How little I have gained, 

How vast the unattained. 

Not by the page word-painted 

Let life be banned or sainted: 

Deeper than written scroll 

The colors of the soul. 

Sweeter than any sung 

My songs that found no tongue; 

Nobler than any fact 

My wish that failed of act. 

Others shall sing the song, 

Others shall right the wrong, -- 

Finish what I begin, 

And all I fail of win. 

What matter, I or they? 

Mine or another's day, 

So the right word be said 

And life the sweeter made? 

Hail to the coming singers! 

Hail to the brave light-bringers! 

Forward I reach and share 

All that they sing and dare. 

The airs of heaven blow o'er me; 

A glory shines before me 

Of what mankind shall be, -- 

Pure, generous, brave, and free. 

A dream of man and woman 

Diviner but still human, 

Solving the riddle old, 

Shaping the Age of Gold! 

The love of God and neighbor; 

An equal-handed labor; 

The richer life, where beauty 

Walks hand in hand with duty. 

Ring, bells in unreared steeples, 

The joy of unborn peoples! 

Sound, trumpets far off blown, 

Your triumph is my own! 

Parcel and part of all, 

I keep the festival, 

Fore-reach the good to be, 

And share the victory. 

I feel the earth move sunward, 

I join the great march onward, 

And take, by faith, while living, 

My freehold of thanksgiving.

~ John Greenleaf Whittier

TO AUTUMN

To Autumn

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

  Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or, by a cyder-press, with patient look,

thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

~ John Keats

SKYFALL

This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again

For this is the end

I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment

So overdue I owe them

Swept away, I’m stolen

Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At skyfall

Skyfall is where we start

A thousand miles and poles apart

Where worlds collide and days are dark

You may have my number, you can take my name

But you’ll never have my heart

Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At skyfall

(Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall)

Where you go I go

What you see I see

I know I’d never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we’ll stand

Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At skyfall

Let the sky fall

We will stand tall

At skyfall

~ ADELE, Lyrics to SKYFALL (James Bond 2012)

Not I...

Back in consciousness. Oblivious?

No. Not I.

I'm always there.

I've always been there...

yesterday and today combined

swirls in the mind... always

yet the puzzle is complete

the mystery solved

this journey traveled

and one might ask solemnly, what now ...

Not I

I ask not

My wings flap still, my eyes facing the heavens

my world the clouds

my blood the wind

one might think uncaring?

Not I

I've always cared and will always care

my ally

yesterday, today and tomorrow

my sight reaching beyond the horizon

a blessing unlike all blessings.

Time changes, the world changes, people change

Not I

I become who am I and yet return to who I was 

and flourish

It is my nature

to watch and soar

to ponder

molding sculptures of air and light

The clouds my life you see

dreams my light

Whispers my speech

my heart the breeze

the season my thoughts

I was here once and though it is possible I can return

I have never returned before.

Not I

Another beautiful Halloween...goodbye for now

Charlie Brown: Well, another Halloween has come and gone.
Linus: Yes, Charlie Brown.
Charlie Brown: I don't understand it. I went trick-or-treating and all I got was a bag full of rocks. I suppose you spent all night in the pumpkin patch.
[Linus nods]
Charlie Brown: And the Great Pumpkin never showed up?
Linus: Nope.
Charlie Brown: Well, don't take it too hard, Linus. I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, too.
Linus: [furious] STUPID? What do you mean "stupid"? Just wait till next year, Charlie Brown. You'll see! Next year at this same time, I'll find the pumpkin patch that is *real* sincere and I'll sit in that pumpkin patch until the Great Pumpkin appears. He'll rise out of that pumpkin patch and he'll fly through the air with his bag of toys. The Great Pumpkin will appear and I'll be waiting for him! I'll be there! I'll be sitting there in that pumpkin patch... and I'll see the Great Pumpkin. Just wait and see, Charlie Brown. I'll see that Great Pumpkin. I'll SEE the Great Pumpkin! Just you wait, Charlie Brown. The Great Pumpkin will appear and I'll be waiting for him...  

IDYLLS OF THE KING

"Though much is taken, 

much abides; and though

We are not now that strength 

which in old days moved earth and heaven, 

that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, 

but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, 

and not to yield." 

~ Alfred Tennyson

ROADS GO EVER ON

"Roads Go Ever On"

Roads go ever ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on,

Under cloud and under star.

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen,

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green,

And trees and hills they long have known.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way,

Where many paths and errands meet.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with weary feet,

Until it joins some larger way,

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on

Out from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone.

Let others follow, if they can!

Let them a journey new begin.

But I at last with weary feet

Will turn towards the lighted inn,

My evening-rest and sleep to meet

~ J.R.R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings) .

UNDER THE HARVEST MOON

UNDER THE HARVEST MOON

UNDER the harvest moon,

When the soft silver

Drips shimmering

Over the garden nights,

Death, the gray mocker,

Comes and whispers to you

As a beautiful friend

Who remembers.

          

Under the summer roses

When the flagrant crimson

Lurks in the dusk

Of the wild red leaves,

Love, with little hands,

Comes and touches you

With a thousand memories,

And asks you

Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

~Carl Sandburg

IT'S A SMALL WORLD

It's A Small World

-

It's a world of laughter, 

A world of tears. 

It's a world of hopes 

And a world of fears 

There's so much that we share, 

That it's time we're aware, 

It's a small world after all.

There is just one moon 

And one golden sun; 

And a smile means 

Friendship to everyone. 

Though the mountains divide, 

And the oceans are wide, 

It's a small world after all. 

It's a small world after all! 

It's a small world after all! 

It's a small world after all! 

It's a small, small world! 

~ Richard M. Sherman and 

   Robert B. Sherman

I will not join you in fear

I WILL NOT JOIN YOU IN FEAR

I will not join you in your fear ...thank you 
For I know the tales, I know the facade 
It interests me not!  
I am much too busy with the colors of day, 
the hues of the night
the illuminations of light, 
the melodies of joy, 
the dancing of ghosts.

I will not join in your fear today
For I know the next step in that journey
the darkness of anger
the infection of envy, 
the hatred of brothers, 
the loss of feeling. 
The reflections in your mind is emptiness
... nothing to do with me.

I will not join your in fear thank you.
 For the unknown is beauty, 
the mysterious is intoxicating, 
the wondrous is alluring, 
the different is magnificent. 

I will not join you in you fear,
for I know a path, 
I know a place
The uncommon is common, 
a reflection of soul.
We welcome change, 
we welcome sight
this is our gift
this is our choice
this is where I shall remain.

I will not join you in your fear... 
I am much too busy.

MOONLIGHT

Moonlight

As a pale phantom with a lamp

Ascends some ruin's haunted stair,

So glides the moon along the damp

Mysterious chambers of the air.

Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed,

As if this phantom, full of pain,

Were by the crumbling walls concealed,

And at the windows seen again.

Until at last, serene and proud

In all the splendor of her light,

She walks the terraces of cloud,

Supreme as Empress of the Night.

I look, but recognize no more

Objects familiar to my view;

The very pathway to my door

Is an enchanted avenue.

All things are changed. One mass of shade,

The elm-trees drop their curtains down;

By palace, park, and colonnade

I walk as in a foreign town.

The very ground beneath my feet

Is clothed with a diviner air;

While marble paves the silent street

And glimmers in the empty square.

Illusion! Underneath there lies

The common life of every day;

Only the spirit glorifies

With its own tints the sober gray.

In vain we look, in vain uplift

Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;

We see but what we have the gift

Of seeing; what we bring we find. 

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Beware the Gollums!

Not all news is rosy, not every day filled with sun, not every night a vision of wonderment. Sometimes there are dark times and sometimes they last. I do not fear acknowledging this. I do not believe I summon malicious and evil whispers if I speak of what I see. I do not choose to give it power. I do not choose to lose my reality in fear. There are dark times but even so we can stand.

This time I mention the thing that crossed my path. Not an unusual event, not uncommon and so it began for me...there I was, wallowing in ignorance, when the creature and I met. It was a gollum and that is as good a name as any. It makes sense to use this label and I think it's one long overdue. The gollum did not always look as it did when we met and yet i could still sense the flecks of darkness that exists when one betrays ones destiny... and  I ignored it. I ignored the signs of darkness. I couldn't be sure. Wouldn't you?

There are many creatures that stink of fear and malevolence and this gollum was no different. I helped the gollum and ultimately was misled. The gollum's path leads only to one place. Gollums always appear asking for our willing attention, and our help. It puzzles me, now long after my encounter, looking at the now visible gollums around me how willingly and easily we go to their aid as they call. We see them and somehow recognize them; they were US perhaps at one time and this invokes a deep and penetrating emotion ... pity.

With the rescue notions of the naive and proclaimed allegiances in the struggle for good, we are bound to move at their call and shrieks for aid. That they are weak or strong or deadly or benign matters not when the call is heard. So strong is the emotion of pity in good people that it almost rivals fear and love in potency. It is a gateway into our hearts directly past the warnings of the mind and the objections of wisdom. 

Gollums are our bane as they often wield powerful unsavory swirls of influence accompanied by subtle toxins, sufficient proximity to our souls and uncanny strategic position to alter the course of our intended lives onto a darker path. We struggle with this conflict of awareness, emotions, and ultimate knowledge and find it so difficult to reconcile that our good deeds are not leading to good outcomes but to darkness and our demise.

What to do...what to do. Do we worry? Do we pray? Do we stop being who we are? Do we carry forward? Do we run and shield ourselves? 

Fellow traveler, I would tell you to do what you need to do, follow your nose, carry your cross as you ought to do, honor your destiny, and fulfill your part in the unfolding play. There is a price to pay for all things and a gollum is an expensive one but take comfort in that wisdom will be born from this ...and just like there was a beginning, there will always be a certain end to a gollum's story.

ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT

Acquainted With The Night


I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.


I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,


But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky


Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.


- Robert Frost

THERE IS ANOTHER SKY

There is another sky,

Ever serene and fair,

And there is another sunshine,

Though it be darkness there;

Never mind faded forests, Austin,

Never mind silent fields -

Here is a little forest,

Whose leaf is ever green;

Here is a brighter garden,

Where not a frost has been;

In its unfading flowers

I hear the bright bee hum:

Prithee, my brother,

Into my garden come!

~ Emily Dickinson

THE LAND OF DREAMS

The Land Of Dreams

Awake, awake my little Boy!

Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:

Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?

Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?

What are its mountains, and what are its streams?

O Father, I saw my Mother there,

Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white

She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.

I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn— 

O when shall I return again?"

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams

Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;

But though calm and warm the waters wide,

I could not get to the other side.

"Father, O Father, what do we here,

In this land of unbelief and fear?

The Land of Dreams is better far

Above the light of the Morning Star."

~ William Blake

A note from an old friend from an old time from an old place...

"The night-crawler returns to the barrio. I know him as Jose, others as Joseph and still others as the guy who wanders past ten, sniffing the pavement, observing the night. 

No doubt that this time armed with knowledge, you surveyed the landscape keenly observing it's night denizens from the edge of the street, looking outward and inward depending on how the looking is done. The brick houses worn out by time, different faces, old neighbors long buried, faded paint streaks the horizon, scattered leaves canvassed the hood we call home. 

Yet, it all seems so new, but the neighborhood wrinkles. El tiempo no miente. Time doesnt lie. That's our neighborhood; Joe returns and notes that the only new thing, are the wrinkles on his face. Welcome back Jose."

RB

EL Paso Texas Jan 02 2011 

ALL THAT'S PAST

All that's Past

Very old are the woods;

And the buds that break

Out of the brier's boughs,

When March winds wake,

So old with their beauty are--

Oh, no man knows

Through what wild centuries

Roves back the rose.

Very old are the brooks;

And the rills that rise

Where snow sleeps cold beneath

The azure skies

Sing such a history

Of come and gone,

Their every drop is as wise

As Solomon.

Very old are we;

Our dreams are tales

Told in dim Eden

By Eve's nightingales;

We wake and whisper awhile,

But, the day gone by,

Silence and sleep like fields

Of amaranth lie.

~ Walter De La Mare