The birds sing,
the Golden State rings,
not of ore,
as they roared before,
but of beauty.
Straw-covered hills roll with arduous vigour,
the endless shores border a plethora of trees,
they blanket red, white, and brown.
People are many,
’twas a call of opportunity,
few acquired it,
the rest had lost it
——Oh what a shame!
Though gold is scarce
and souls are found;
Wisdom will say:
the material is worthless
and life’s divine.
(13 October 2017)
Amongst Kernis’ war,
a moth becomes graceful;
in the light, there’s a shadow.
(5 August 2017)
Steep hills built on an unknown future.
Paths are mostly ONE WAY.
If you miss your destination,
there is hardly a return.
Houses built on top of each other.
Communities are segregated still.
Wow! Talk about top-over-heels.
What spectacular culture!
There seems to be space for all:
technology and industry,
—— the arts survive.
Methinks, how it was to venture
over these vast hills to see
an enchanting gulf-like bay,
and lots of greenery.
Man now has soiled much with his edifices,
especially this life-filled structure.
God smiles on their attempts
at a meaningful, free-hand sculpture .
I’ll just enjoy the scenery.
(28 July 2017)
A sea breeze on my cheek,
a heart full of peace,
and thus my fourth is complete.
(4 July 2017)
Life is rewarding,
though in passing it is rarely so,
in hindsight it always is.
(23 April 2017)
So many books are written,
they are falling from the trees.
So many thoughts unheard,
they’ll fill the pages endlessly.
The stories of humanity:
its creativity and discovery
—the faith of the Unknown.
Music! Music everywhere!
Before man walked, birds sang.
Before humans wrote, drums rang.
More music is written than can ever be heard.
See here! See there!
The ground below and the sky above.
The art of sight and the sight of art.
The places where history strode.
The creations of the Almighty Hand.
Billions of souls — our fellow sojourners,
Their eyes are hidden worlds.
Friends of old. Friends of new.
My heart yearns for perfect empathy.
Why do you haunt me so!?
Your life is reminiscent of death—a smoldering incubator. But,
without your persistence, there would be no deliberate existence.
The pressure’s incessant.
Form diamond from carbon.
Null death is not living.
Keep the time beating.
(6 April 2017)
There is fire under my wings,
I soar among the hills; and yet,
my feet are firm on the ground.