FOSSIL

Out of burning ages and shrivelled shrines
Echoes wander over fortitude, remembering.
Tactile, bereft and opened waste,
Scattered toward a shroud of vacant tomorrows.

Stone is living and moving all around
The nature of the earth exposed to the sky.
Soup of grain and time salted with erosion
Moss laden tundras battered by rain.

Anything walking will live on it forever
And will eventually become a part of it.
Inescapable, and beautiful, but harsh
Gripping humanity with both love and hate.

            LISTENING TO CHANCE

Can you remember it now?
How it was, in the darkness of our past
We knew how to supply what was needed to enthrall
And in discovering our dignities and limits
We met with the new and undefined us
Designing each other to a likeness unbound
And within it all we derived a culture
A new age discovering and taming fear.

Awakening tensions that looked out of us
Onto paths never ventured
Willing and ever potent versions of a scheme
Laid out before us beckoning adventure
Real to a point but never proven to be;
Inside dormant with exile, clandestine
Opening up to unconsciousness but sleeping still;
Still and quiet, harkened to serendipity.

                          VEINED

Up until the time we were dissolved into the precocious,
Nothing would enter into us, or disturb the way we were
Whenever a portion of truth endangered our reality,
We stepped in and turned it round, and it was dismissed.

We could never reason with the norm or how it was
Although our ways could often meet over an ember lit moment
Out of an idea so delicate I would have thought of nothing else
But how we have become veined and mingle so within, you and I.