Getting Lost

"Don't get lost!"
My mother beckons.
I won't get lost
I know the way.
In this confusing world.
Or so I think.

I lift my eyes
To late to blink.

To catch the last glimpses of the spinning.
Careening into darkness.
I stretch for words.
But I'm lost.

Just like my mother warned.
Now it's too late.
The wheel has turned.

To Love and Be Loved

"Just to Love and Be Loved", which is quoted in the popular movie Moulin Rouge, was first written by St. Augustine in Book 3 of his Confessions. During this time his studies led him to Carthage. In his youth he regrets his lustful thoughts and preoccupations. He wrote The Confessions when meditating on God and how he could be if he could not see or touch God.
He was looking for a woman to provide some distraction for his true need for God. Lacking God to love, he tried filling the void with other things: women, food, wealth etc. Augustine felt as if he needed someone to love so deeply to escape the surface of his lonely life. He felt "left out" from the society of love that seemed so normal and ritual in his town. Subsequently he was not in love but in love with the thought of being in love.

Little Feet Walking on Moonlight

To be unknown
Washed up on some distant shore.
Little feet
Tiptoeing
To your side.

A piano stuck in cadenza.
A flute without sharps.

Little feet
Beckon you.
Leap, won't you follow me?

To be unknown
In some Ozark forest
To get glossed over
By the newspapers
Follow some unknown lead.

To be unknown
Searching for your destiny
Is it far?
The wanderer asks.

Shall we travel farther
Across the states
To rest in some
Foreign place.

To be unknown
Like a wooden cross
Half-made
Is it?

Little feet
Stumble to your
visit.
On the wavering moonlight.

To be unknown
Perhaps,
I'll go out on a limb.
Little feet travel on wards.

Maybe,
That's where all the apples are.

A Piercing Echo

The piercing echo of a cry

That followed along the seashore

Softly protruded by salty spray.

Like the meticulous strike of a marine clock.

Upon some rocky shore

The captain left unknowing

Of what malarky

The ship had befallen

When marooned.

His heart trembled

As he looked

Bereft at the waves

That undulating

Swallowed the carcass

Of his ship.

A piercing echo from his homeland

Buried beneath the waves.

The coarse waves

Entrenching the sweet pink melodies

Of his love far away.

The hardened grimace rising and falling.

A piercing echo sounded

Quail, squirrels, nuts and grass.

Salty waters

That burn the skin

Of such a

White canvas.

Once painted brilliant colors

Of an Englishman’s pride.

Such charm

He had taken a bride.

A beauty sought after by many a man.

Bold and brave he’d asked for her hand.

Bright colored summers

And flames of winter

Long trousers

And thoughts of dinner.

Gone with the waves.

A million miles away.

He watches

As the waves

Crash disdainfully

Into the lonely coast.