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I share these voices given to me


and revel in their power



I find these voices given to me


exist high in an iron tower



* * *


 

floating leaves, endless ripples



water causing an empty thought




fallen trees, furrowed trenches



earth surrounding what I've caught




fallow fields, private meadows



god held prisoner to what he's wrought




finding peace, garden treasures



the end to mysteries that I've fought



* * *



on wings



high above

the tiny specks

of life below



on wings


cutting through

the feathery wisps

of rolling vapor



on wings


voice of hunger

shrieks across

the painted desert



on wings


changing winds

making shifting patterns

of fearsome shadows



on wings


where solitude

becomes my reward

for living



on wings



* * *


 

as far back as one may go


to a liquid connected world of warmth



tendrils touching long lost memories


in a quiet invasion of inner solitude



slowly opening aperture of awareness


loosening the confines of darkness



first breath

ignites the fire of life



first thoughts

embrace time's start



first eyes

open into the layered fog



first words

declare the reason to exist



first steps

cross the river and go beyond



into this universe...


into your world



* * *



garden walk



enemies within, deep well of conflict


smooth flagstones to follow blindly


feather fronds protect silent thoughts


cascading dew forms jewels to rely on


tentative steps, three forward, one back


protective crouch, relive parting sorrow


then deep breath, full of moss and earth



leather leaves show the textures between moments


diagonal columns of sunlight march beyond view


lazy floating motes ignore intruders passage


timeless enchantment between spider's filaments


captured dancing nymphs entangled in deception


holding closely those prayers that save us


quiet struggle, then freedom's flight



* * *


 

light's boundaries



testing the limits of space



innumerable thoughts projecting beyond



noticed by searching beings



rebroadcast to their central place



collected, analyzed, and studied



found inconsequential and discarded



but providing a century of mirth



while waiting for their next discovery




the purpose of our lives...



* * *


 

the sacrifice




cold silence

 


blanketing darkness



legs fettered



arms akimbo



eyes uplifted



frozen terror



knives piercing



empty scream



melting pain



conscious falling



heavy thud



* * *



voices take so many forms



with these stories that must be told




voices that are always there



with the source uncountably old




voices provide the questions



when the answers are already known




voices are the soul's extension



a reward when the spirit has grown



* * *



quiet drifting



a door to find, a life to lead



with hazy motion and circular thoughts




without the key, what good this search



without your help, what good this effort



without your love, what good this life



* * *



darkness precedes the light



dry wind whispers before the rain




eclipsing shadows move overhead



unknown presence observes quietly




panoramas of life all around



individual experiences woven as cloth




cloaking tightly our innermost needs



for here is the essence of why we breathe



* * *



the sounds of water lapping


of time drifting slowly away



away from secure feelings


away from treasures held



away from comfort found


away from knowing you



* * *


 

Birth and Death




one is for laughing, one is for crying




one is for entering, one is for leaving




one is for learning, one is for forgetting




one is for quietness, one is for loudness




one is for finding, one is for losing




one is for beginning, one is for ending




one follows the other




but I know not which



* * *


 

reach deep, beyond the pale



soar high, and touch infinity




stretch from yesterday through tomorrow 



and implode into the nothingness




then as a flower, with far reaching petals



blossom inward, into the heart of god



* * *



Epitaph




count the leaves that fall and die today



for that counts your minutes remaining




count the clouds passing by today



for that counts your friends soon grieving




count the birds soaring high today



for that counts your demons unbidden




count the sun in the sky today



for that counts the lives you are given



* * *



like


seeds in a row


waiting for wind



like


seeds in a row


waiting for rain



like


seeds in a row


waiting for sun



like

 

seeds in a row


waiting to carry on



* * *



silent footsteps, golden glow



figure silhouetted against the light




intense streamers, fragmented refraction



knocks on your door when the time is right




thunderous bells, mountains calling



now quietly sleeping and shrouded in white



* * *


 

patterns of movement



the wind whistling change



this tormenting vagueness



where all is so strange



with the harmonious kinship’s



we try to arrange



* * *



January 1, 1994




pieces of a puzzle



scattered and hidden



no reassuring picture to follow



haphazardly assembled



where spaces show between the jigs



but it's the best I can do



in this short time



that I have



* * *


 

to know that time is given

 



takes it so quickly away



* * *



panes of glass


from far away



show ocean ripples


as they snake on sand



where the silent darkness


shimmers beyond tomorrow



forming radial blurs


of absolute symmetry



so soon to discover


that the projection of thoughts



ultimately causes


the evaporation of being



* * *



close your eyes


and see yourself



in between this flash


of darkness



close your eyes


and be yourself



shrug off this bitter


wind's caress



close your eyes


and free yourself



from this empty world


of excess



* * *



these three lines a triangle make



with two lines forever diverging



one line going nowhere



and a point to mark your spot



* * *


 

the wind blew


and the sky


falls into the night



in a world of no reason


naked figures march


through twisted desolation


melting into the far horizon



white hot embers


scorch the remnants


of final consciousness



abandoned orbs


of universal intelligence


litter the cruel landscape


with disdain



and the patchwork essence


of the deceivers


obscures from harmony


the bearer of my guilt



* * *



capture


the immensity of inner conflict



cower


beneath the fluted shell of apathy



weave


an escape based on the ancient dreams



declare


freedom from the ultimate blackness



journey


to the place of answers



and live


in the spirit of all songs



* * *



if a door opens...



pass on through




if a path beckons...



follow it's trail




 

if a light shines...



absorb the power





if a friend calls...



* * *



There are mysteries




that remain beyond



 

this daily turmoil



* * *


 

small window view



from angel's secret playground



past silver wings and curling vapor




the towering presence of turbulent clouds



become sentinels from the deeper blue



now lonely soldiers passing by




deep landlocked dragon tears



reflect their silent passage



to viewers from afar



* * *


 

THE BOOK




very short



deservedly ignored



life's ambition



final chapter


 

now over




the end



* * *



dying light



evening tremors



midnight spasms



morning cold




try to escape



this binding sadness



and fly above



these murky depths




to the end



the final mystery



in quiet repose



you now pass through



* * *


 

good night moon...


it's time


for me to go now



good night moon...


it's nice


to remember you when



good night moon...


it's hurts


for what I must do



good night moon...


it's dark


now your light is gone



good night moon...


it's cold


without you here



good night moon...


it's over


I belong to sadness



* * *



I am time


unknown


beyond all measure




I find


and after finding




I pass by


leaving behind


these delicate leaves




suspended



before the wind



* * *



the place I go



not far away



where quiet prevails



and darkness yields




with loving touches


 

that conquer all



are friends who guide me


 

through times of pain



 

for in our smiles



sharing a moments peace



I find what is lost



exists so near



* * *



p o n


1 9 9 3


copyright Patrick O'Neil


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