Rain, swirling sheets 
purging the residue of man from the land
A dark grey curtain
covering the green hills.
The Earth crawls under its cover,
seeking repose from its weary battle.
Listening to the ancient voices,
Echoes, recalling a time long ago
when the Earth basked naked
beneath a native sun,
providing for beast and fowl alike.
Their roars and shrieks called out
from the highest peaks,
across vast deserts,
along fertile plains.


Those calls long since overtaken
by the hum of engines
and the steady drone of machinery,
the clanging of steel upon steel,
and the blasts of explosives.
The new language of man,
And he called it Progress.


Cities went up,
Forests disappeared,
Factories bellowed,
Oil wells gushed,
Mines bore into the hearts of mountains,
ripping out their guts.
All their wastes filled rivers and streams.
Their fumes choked the air.


And the Great Mother cries - and cries.
Full with compassion Heaven replies.

Free Verses

I Used to Be	I used to be kind, warm and gracious. Now I am indifferent, cold and rapacious. I used to be engaging, empathetic and forbearing. Now I am aloof, callous and demanding. I used to be generous, encouraging and equanimous. Now I am selfish, resentful and contemptuous. I used to be considerate, forthright and benevolent. Now I am confrontational, deceitful and belligerent. I used to be respected honored and esteemed. Now I am disfavored, disparaged and scorned. I used to be the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. I am AMERICA… Pray for me. VISIT US ON FACEBOOK
The Nature of This ‘I’	What is the Nature of this ‘I’ That moves this pen That thinks these words Written to be read By other ‘I’s Who think about these words And wonder Is there any meaning To one’s ‘I’? But meaning is futile. One can easily see Life has no meaning. One is born, lives, dies. And in between One is educated, One is worked, One is used, Then abused, and finally excused from Life. What meaning is there in that ‘I’? In Life’s game of Hide ‘n Seek? Don’t waste precious time searching for meaning. Seek instead your Identity. Who are you? What are you? Is that identity true? Is it real? Find out. The clock is ticking. VISIT US ON FACEBOOK
At the End of the Day A bright moon climbs through gently layered clouds. The light enraptures my vision. Its alabaster sheen, the whiteness of an infant’s soul. Calming moments gather as darkness descends. The day has faded and with it the frenetic dance called living.	Free at last, the heart withdraws, enjoined with the soul, in the sanctuary of its cave. The stillness of the night embracing, they prepare for that celestial journey beyond space, beyond time. O Great Orb! Thou art surely possessed by a god from Heaven. Your light infused with His nectar, spreading across the sleeping Earth. Renewing the Great Mother’s prana. His soma blankets all, In deep death-like sleep. Even the most virtuous mother will abandon the newborn at her breast once that blissful cloud of dreamlessness befalls her. For flora and fauna an invigorating rebirth. For Man, a calming stillness to end the succession of births. This the color of darkness This the silent night beholds. This the salient moon foretells. VISIT US ON FACEBOOK