set on a path alone among the pine-defined horizons,

you walk into the nowhere hazed above

by eyes that pierce through undefined palettes of greysomes,

which northern winds keep brightening up

for one more truth to grasp with the unsettling winter dusk

that follows you to catch a thought surrender

to the limitless field of feeling under moving stars,

defined by being and not being just as much

as light on days and nights when you outpaced those without courage 

but just the honesty of childlike wonder set ablaze

to question the eternity of future flowing backwards into hope

that hurt much more than pain you used to dwell on endlessly

at the bottom of the mountain, where the trees surrendered to the breeze

that once slipped through the shoreline of your chanting,

atuned to breath, in tune with stillness, in search of silence 

or truth, notwithstanding the sought peace.

(inspired by the sounds of ‘Lotus’, by Secret Garden)

to be a stranger – 

is all you’re taught to be,

is all you’ll ever be,

among voices of solitude upheld

to be no more than just a turn to sorrow,

glancing straight up towards the pain of others 

through eyes shadowed by those tears

withheld not, so as to forget the moments,

when the right path seemed to follow you,

along steps taken to undo –

not errors, not regrets, nor torments

but a will forgotten in plain sight –

to notice depth over the breadth

of words unclosing into faith,

as budding hopes unfolding into fright,

on day one of another life

that started as a calling,

to bring together all that’s lingering

within, without, withholden.

(inspired by the sounds of ‘Path 19’, by Max Richter)