Eyes

Her eyes are blue
Yours are brown
Hers represents the ocean
Yours represents the ground
You’ve always hated your eyes
And wished that they were blue
But your eyes have a tint of gold
So rare it must not be true
So yes her eyes are blue
And yes your eyes are brown
But your eyes hold the riches
That are buried in the ground
Her eyes carry storms
And rage like the sea
Your eyes carry earthquakes
That bring mountains to their knees
Maybe her eyes are blue
But your eyes reign queen
Because they hold the purest riches
The world has ever seen

THE THREE VOICES

The waves have a story to tell me,

Ad I lie on the lonely beach;

Chanting aloft in the pine-tops,

The wind has a lesson to teach;

But the stars sing an anthem of glory

I cannot put into speech.

The waves tell of ocean spaces,

Of hearts that are wild and brave, 

Of populous city places,

Of desolate shores they lave,

Of men who sally in quest of gold

To sink in an ocean grave.

The wind is a mighty roamer;

He bids me keep me free,

Clean from the taint of the gold-lust,

Hardy and pure as he;

Cling with my love to nature,

As a child to the mother-knee.

But the stars throng out in their glory,

And they sing of the God in man;

They sing of the Mighty Master,

Of the loom his fingers span,

Where a star or a soul is part of the whole,

And weft in the wondrous plan.

Here by the camp-fire’s flicker,

Deep in my blanket curled,

I long for the peace of the pine-gloom,

When the scroll of the Lord is unfurled,

And the wind and the wave are silent,

And world is singing to world.

Fear

It is said that before entering the sea

a river trembles with fear.

She looks back at the path she has traveled,

from the peaks of the mountains,

th elong winding road crossing forests and villages.

And in front of her,

she sees an ocean so vast,

that to enter 

there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.

But there is no other way.

The river can not go back.

Nobody can go back.

To go back is impossible in existence.

The river needs to take the risk

of entering the ocean

because only then will fear disappear,

because that’s where the river will know

it’s not about disappearing into ocean,

but of becoming the ocean.

Everything

I don’t know much about 

how to label the things i feel.

all i know is that

when i look at the sky,

i see freedom.

when i look at the dirt,

i see breakthrough.

when i look at the ocean,

i see serenity.

and when i look at you,

i see everything.