Where the Oak Leaves Whisper

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On the trail that day, in the wind, where the oak leaves whisper, shadows of wings covered him, from the sky…

yet he was never afraid, even with the distant sounds of singing, of chanting and drums, he noticed shadows shifting,

so he stopped with a poem nearing its creation. Sitting on a large rock with prayer beginning as a spring,

light flickered and when he opened his eyes he found…..

he was the river, after all.

     

Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies

He was Never Alone

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Standing on top of the mountain he could see so many wounds now

on the earth as if people had allowed faith

to pass through

without paying attention,

so the paths overgrown

disappeared,

though he often

respected the candles

he walked beyond what had been

letting go of tired sermons,

the worn out reaching

but he never lost himself,

instead

within the light bathing, the songs

of the leaves

the forest spoke to his heart,

that he was never

alone.

Not ever.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies