We Cannot Help But Howl

Like a wolf pack howling in the silence of a cold arctic darkness

There is no hope whatsoever, therefore we resolve to try all the harder

There is no chance for survival but still, we must choose life

The end is always very near but, quite naturally, we decide to work instead of dance

Things cannot possibly turn out, but we must still try and arrange them

There can be no happy ending but we consciously decide to ignore that

Though many are taken every day, we who remain always continue on

The goal remains forever unattainable so our only victory is in the struggle

Despite the inescapable certainty, we play on against the overwhelming odds

There is no far-off light to seek yet we still grope through the darkness

Our feet will never feel the bottom but it does not stop our swimming

Though no spirit can ever hear us we cannot help but sing

Tossed in this swirling entropy we do not abandon ourselves to chaos and confusion

We know not where we come from, yet, we must struggle before we return

We choose to live despite an implacable end leading to an unknowable

Blackness and mystery surround us, but we strive out of more than just simple fear

Despite the meaninglessness of the infinite emptiness, we retain a sense of purpose

Though the nights are cold and the winters long, somehow we look to the Spring

Casting off an imaginary heaven we nevertheless cannot lose the lonely faith that sustains us

No matter that we are lost and wet and hungry, there is no child who is a stranger

Even as we are being overtaken there is no quenching our need to understand

Right as we disappear beneath the wheel, we are still waving the others onward

We dare to peer into the blackness and not give in to empty pleasure seeking

No warmly lit and peaceful shelter awaits us, and yet we must still travel on

It cannot be otherwise, or we would be most certainly far worse than simply lost

Though we find no evidence of worthiness from our efforts, they can never cease

Stay With Me

Stay With Me

Für Ingrid: Piano Composition by Fernando Ortega on Windham Hill Records Piano Sampler II.
Read while listening to the link below:

1^st Verse:

Don’t leave me

          Don’t leave me alone

Stay a while

          Stay a while here at home

Chorus:

Though time passes

          It fills us with laughter

Just this once before you go

2^nd Verse:

Don’t you Go

          Don’t leave me behind

Won’t you Stay

          You were so hard to find

Chorus:

Through our ages

          You helped turn the pages

Just hold me once then off you go

3^rd Verse:

Remember Me

          When you’re so far away

I loved you then

          As I love you today

Chorus:

Though the past now

          Holds greener pastures

Just hold me once before we go

4^th Verse:

Please need me

          Sometime late at night

I need you

          In your morning light

5^th Verse:

Come back to me

          Come back now and then

So good to see

          To see you again

Chorus:

Our time has passed us

          Still in joyous shadows

Just hold me once and we’ll be gone

The Lights Of Home

Sometimes I almost see them again like I did, from across our lake, driving back home at night

The kids all yelling while the dogs are jumping and her smile so warmly surrounding me

Keep stumbling back on those thousand little details I never really had time for, so long ago

Did not realize then how much a part of what I was, they really were

The lights of home that made things seem alright - not too bright but still so warm

It was so good to have somewhere to be, a place where they were always glad to see me

Funny how I could not see it so well back then, maybe it was all just too close for me to focus

Yeah, the many little things that made life worth living, each so small when viewed alone

Shutting down my old car once more, my hands all full, back safe in that little front yard

Tired but home again, where they knew me well and I could help out and not be in the way

The TV news on in the background, with all that crazy stuff we could always pretty much ignore

Sitting down once again at that old table, all together over supper, and what is going on?

I guess back then it didn’t take a lot to fill us up with a real sense of comfort and security

How good it was to have those lights that led me back to that warm, safe place every day

The details of our daily life grounding and protecting us from those clouds of dark confusion

The lights of home and knowing they were there, just down that old road to the quieter shore…

The Tao That

the Tao that is spoken cannot be heard

the Tao that is grasped still feels like the air

the Tao that is shared cannot be communicated

the Tao once observed is thereby forever altered

the Tao that is finally written

does not contain a single word

the Tao that is measured is thus resized again

the Tao once forgotten returns to its course

the Tao that is captured acts as does water

it reveals only the shape of its container

the Tao glimpsed as mere shadow

yields hints of its true nature

the Tao given off by events unrelated

forms the overtones stored within an echo

the Tao once grasped

evaporates quickly into nonsense

the Tao that is denied

accepts each and every argument

the Tao once visualized

dissolves like a dream upon reflection

the Tao exists not within us

but can fill our minds just the same

the Tao truly described

has no real outline

the Tao pursued

joins the moving shadows

the Tao defined

has no meaning

the Tao that is realized

lights our path without a source

the Tao imagined

is a dream of dreaming

the Tao ignored

is perfectly reflected

the Tao defiled

soils only the observer

the Tao once forsaken

creeps back from every side

the Tao clung to

does not remain on the fingers

the Tao not completed

gains eternal life

the Tao not considered

is freed to be revealed

the Tao not isolated

keeps to itself

the Tao not evaluated

retains its full potential

the Tao is not dilated

yet expands with the universe

the Tao not distanced

remains far away

the Tao not visible

is much easier to see

the Tao not called upon

gives forth a flood of answers

the Tao not present

outlines the entire truth within

the Tao not reconsidered

is considered once too often

the Tao not focused directly upon

reveals its minutest details

the Tao seen as shattered

is identical in each smaller piece

the Tao that is analyzed

is an unsorted and incomplete fossil

the Tao that is broken

is perfect in all respects

the Tao that bubbles from within

has a source outside the spring

the Tao that is filtered

gains impurities but loses nothing

the Tao that is polarized

is the same on either side of the filter

the Tao that fills the night sky

travels outside the speed of light

the Tao that covers everything

drifts down in spaces between the snowflakes

the Tao that lasts forever

never existed as it struck you

the Tao of uncountable infinities

exists outside of The Life Force

the Tao effects that we see

occur without actions that we could measure

the Tao that we will never know

we ignore at our utmost peril

the Tao that stretches back beyond forever

recurs completely in each smallest instant

Prismatics

I looked down into the depths of that clear and moving water

I saw memories shimmering in and out of the past

I listened as gentle breezes carried the sounds of the woods

I heard echoes of other times returning from far down the canyon

I stroked the gnarly bark of an ancient evergreen

I felt the calm which flowed from far beneath its surface

I breathed deeply of the earth, moistened by the gentle rains

I smelled the smoky fires that once had kept us safe

I walked alone in wasted landscapes dressed in filthy rags

I paused in the meadow as you bent to pick some flowers

I worked with hateful strangers and counted each and every minute

I tried to hold onto every moment in which we sat in peace

I steeped in all the influences that droned on about me from all sides

I drew only upon the faint but clear light that I found within

I groped my way in the mists of the profoundest of confusion

I lost my sight while searching but began to gain a vision

I read of far off galaxies and creatures that lived long ago

I began to understand the anxiety which marked my whole life thru

I gazed upon the yellow aspen leaves as they trembled in the fall

I felt my spirit rise into the deep blue sky which framed them

I sensed the gentle return of Spring upon my cheeks and forehead

I no longer had a need to stare straight into the sun simply to be sure

I stumbled on the broadest trail in the clearest light of day

I fell alone but then arose to find you there and awaiting me

I could pay no attention to the slow marching of all the passing years

I found myself in ever greater debt to many I would never know

I watched the sun go slowly down and then quickly disappear

I noted with interest, but not sorrow, the lines upon my hands

I found quiet joy in the large snowflakes that fell slowly from all directions

I dreamed a robot said on TV that factory food was his home cooking

I grew stronger playing happily in the shade of those old trees

I grew old standing quietly, protecting others from the sun

I sold out to the unfaithful for little more than a song

I finally went quite bankrupt and gladly mortgaged just my soul

I watched the tiny wavelets produced by a pebble

I saw a young boy skipping stones on a glacial lake long ago

I noticed that it had grown quite late and the streets were very empty

I hurried ever onward but slowly realized that I was not sure of the way

I leaped wide from basic instincts to unsupported conclusions

I fell so far I had no more need of either reason or excuses

I listened as the crows gathered and each tried to talk at once

I heard but a single voice that was both calm and reassuring

I walked far up an unknown trail hoping just to find a quiet overlook

I turned that last corner just as the first raindrops began to fall

I spoke but little as the days grew short and their shadows lengthened

I told these simple stories that I did not understand and no one else could hear

I looked upon peaks buried deep in snow, glistening in the winter sun

I wished that I had seen them before all these tourists had arrived

I listened for the faint tinkling of the gentle rain upon the windows

I heard that old wooden clock still ticking somewhere in the past

I studied many subjects during long years spent at all those schools

I learned so slowly that I could know but little in my very short lifetime

I spoke out often and with vigor when things did not seem right

I kept to myself when I finally realized that it had the same effect

I traveled on for what seemed like ages as the years came and went

I had arrived at some point but, until much later, could not really notice

I dozed off many times to the sounds of a stream

I awoke from dreams of my own dreaming and I was vaguely uncertain

I created a rich inner life more enjoyable than the shared illusion of reality

I was molded day and night by the wills and choices of those I did not see

I sat quietly in the pre-dawn watching colors return to the countryside

I arose to plod through another day sharing this land of make believe

I went so far back through my life that there were no longer any memories

I concluded there must come another time like that, and it would begin very soon

I grew up with the security of the imagined wonders yet to come

I grew old in the comfort of my own refashioned memories

I imagined the world as it still might have become

I believed in a world as I wished it might have been

I listened attentively for sounds I thought I may have missed

I heard snatches of blissful silence punctured by their raucous outbursts

I set out on my way with trepidation, doubt and uncertainty many years ago

I traveled far with strangers and, happily, had no home to return to

I walked softly into the meadow with the sunrise at my back

I helped trample many of the finer things into the mud with my boots

I dismissed as unimportant their dogma that could have gained me success

I weaved odd snatches of facts into a threadbare cloak of illusion

I wished only to live peacefully, searching for a bit of quiet joy

I joined the hoarsely shouting throngs and raged uselessly, on a daily basis

I was filled with national pride and patriotism as a little boy

I grew ever more embarrassed and ashamed of what we had become

I saved as much as possible of my miserable take for those ‘golden years’

I saw my comrades gamble and waste but then demand bailouts and subsidies

I strolled through the shopping malls looking deeply into people’s faces

I noted the anger, fear, hurry, ignorance and greed in their gazes

I tried with all my being to understand and to make my peace

I only saw that it could make not any difference in 500 million years

I moved quickly and decisively through issues of consumerism

I observed a hairy caterpillar inch its way across a picnic table

I scanned the sky on clear nights for clues as to the mysteries

I found good evidence that we had wisely chosen to retain our blissful ignorance

A Fresh Water Home

there is a cottage on that lakeside where I swam so long ago

there came the smell of life from deep down within that lake

I had a glimpse of paradise where the bluegills lived among the pickerel weeds

I saw the sun from beneath the cool green water, with my cousins

I heard as wavelets lapped for a while when the breeze had stopped

I listened to the frogs all croaking where they were safe and wet

they said the lake was very deep and the water very good

they said fossil sand dunes still filtered the long rains of autumn

there is a dirt road down by the lake that is soft upon bare feet

there are large beech trees at the lakefront where the old folks sit

I felt the wind change late in August as the leaves began to show their bottoms

I felt at ease while swimming in that lake all those fish called home

I saw the starlight shimmer on the surface of the darkened water

I saw the joy upon the faces of the little kids as they splashed and played

I heard the fish as they were jumping and I saw the rings that spread

I heard the oar locks squeaking and the water dripping from their blades

I heard the water passing by as I swam beneath the surface

I heard the gentle tinkle when my head broke through the water

I knew that things made a wonderful and complex but, common sense

I knew the summer was nearly over when our lips began turning blue

I felt the lake touch me from the dock when there was no breeze

I felt the bluegill tugging when the hook caught in his mouth

there was a time on summer evenings when the lightning bugs emerged

there was a breeze that brought the sound of wavelets to a bunkbed

I was a boy who dreamed of fishing and swimming every day

I was a boy who played ditch'em in the hardwood hills behind the cottage

I felt the cool stone floor of the cottage on those rainy summer days

I felt the warmth of the fireplace my uncle had built in the swirling mist

I heard the tinkle of the raindrops from underwater when it was quite still

I heard the explosion of air in the water when I leapt from the dock

there is a road that is still not paved, and it stretches back to those days

there is a wondrous happiness in simply knowing that we were there

I saw the babies in their cribs and the calm old ones sitting quietly together

I saw light rays wiggle greenishly and geometrically down into that good water

I knew the lake would, of course, be preserved just as the trees would be left to grow

I knew the world was made to last for at least a million years

I touched the spongy moss and knew that it was good

I touched the surface of the lake and it clung to my finger

there is a twilight full of peace and the presence of the lake

there is that group of quiet children before the modern age

I helped put in the dock and float the raft in good time for memorial day

I helped dig the worms, bail the boat then caught and cleaned the fish

I saw the painted turtles with orange stripes on their faces

I heard the stories of all the people who were a part of that family

I was a man who once, thank god, came back to swim in that lake again

I was a man who was finally able to realize how lucky he had always been

Maybe Not Too Late

when I awoke and gasped for breath I struggled to remember

a thing that I had meant to do so long ago somewhere in the past,

some promise I had made, and I was drenched in icy sweat

now, how could I have forgotten, how could I have delayed

maybe, I thought, it's still not too late…

if I really try my best

maybe it's not too late for all those things I never did

for all the apologies I did not mean

all the places I have never been

perhaps not yet too late to search for

that which was so easily avoided for so long

still there may be time enough to craft myself that Happy Ever After

when I looked round with loudly beating heart

and breaths drawn quick and shallow with a buzzing in my ears

oh sweet jesus let it be...not yet too late for me

as I strive to remember all those things I absolutely cannot leave undone

the time for their completions, once so long and far away

it seems, may have somehow simply slipped away

should I fail to complete them, if their time has past

the meaning of the rest of me is certainly diminished

and the empty blackness will be my just and final state

when I awoke and cast about in fear and nervous tension

I sensed a trap I had not even seen

until it had grown well beyond very late

I looked about quite anxiously for help

but there were no grownups standing by

I felt so alone and frightened, how might this mistake have happened

quite late it seems, quite dark and still

but my sudden, yet far beyond tardy, urgency surges

maybe, oh please just maybe, let it be not already way too late, way too long ago for me

Almost Over

I saw the starry night sky whirling about up above me once again, long ago

And I knew that it was almost over for me just the same as for all of you

As I turned the pages in your wondrous books with a warm satisfaction

It slowly came to me that it would not always be like this

Gliding down the hills with thoughtless skill and senses still intact

It grew so much sweeter as I felt my time grow ever more quickly, shorter

Listening to the soft music as the million snowflakes fell

Tears filled my eyes from gratitude as well as the approaching emptiness

Standing still but quivering with every sense on fire

It grew stronger the more I realized how soon it would be no more

Immersed in the observation of one of earth’s tiny wonders

Great hunger arose within me to see them all before the darkness bound me

As the gentle melodies brought moments of peace to my angry life

How hard I tried to stay there even though they arrived without an effort

As I heard the thunder roll about from east to west through that gentle rain

I grew so full with its meaning I might have left in peace right then

Just as anger poisoned every thought and life seemed completely pointless

A song would come to calm me and I saw again how it was almost over

When my skull was too long pierced by violent, random, pointless noise

Then proper harmony and rhythm slowed me down to show me once again

As each new world opened up to me in endless interesting possibilities

With so much left to do I knew my time must seem to come too soon

Leaping out of ordinary circumstance like some psychedelic trout

I tingled in that other atmosphere gathering brief but shining images

In your arms I lay in peace and happiness with the world held briefly at arm’s length

I flashed upon many billions of years and knew that, it was almost over

Gazing up with every molecule of every cell at peace for just one moment

Those intervals were too few in the fleeting blur that was the passing of my life

I tried to string together those brief instants when everything made sense

Tried to wear them like some beads, walking on towards rushing darkness

Got lost and turned around, cried out and stumbled blindly

Awoke inside strange dreams pointing unavoidably towards the precipice

Shattered your harmony and trampled finely-wrought creations underfoot

Awoke at intervals to apologize, unable to pay for all my guilt with simple shame

And just as I achieved the apex of my tiny leap

Glancing quickly about I sensed all at once that, it was almost over

It has always been almost over and nearly time to slip back to nowhere

My short life spent in preparation for a return to a nothing filled without even emptiness

Was It Not You

Did I not walk in harmony with you in the soft light before that dawn

          Remember? the birds awoke each other with that sleepy singing

Through the tall wet grass and early summer flowers

          Among the stately ponderosa pines, was it not you and I?

When a gentle breeze stirred no leaves but merely caressed our foreheads

          And the hot and dirty city we once called home seemed so far away

The moon still rode above us but the light began to grow upon the hills

          Was it not you who looked into the distance without a trace of sadness?

Surely it was your eyes which reflected the peaks marching to the horizon

         I know that I remember walking quietly with someone every other day

Although just one figure was outlined against the sky, I did not stand alone

          Certainly we found no need for speaking with our hearts so very full

Did we not pause here in silence as the dew gathered upon our sturdy shoes?

          And we watched that old dog snuffling deeply in every nook and cranny

I know that you were there, for had you not always loved it just as much as I

          That sweet smell of morning somewhere, walking in the mountains

Indeed, it must have been you, with whom I shared those silent thoughts

          Our paths are only separated by the thinnest veil of ordinary time

Was it not yours, this hand I felt so lightly on my shoulder?

          Surely you had whispered something softly just across the years

Were you not the one in whom I saw myself when I was so much younger?

          Or did your grandma once look at me as if she had known me long ago?

And likely you will someday notice that I stand here quite close beside you

          And likely you notice someone who joins with you long, long from now

Did you not strive to point out some magical form in those far-off clouds?

          Did you not stand in wonder with me before the paintings in the cave?

Was it not you who drinks a pint for us just as I drank to both you, and them?

          Did I not feel that same joy for living that fills you now, so very ong ago?

My hands, like yours, were weak, grew strong, then turned old and gnarled

          I felt the sun upon my forehead just as you feel it caress you now

Could I not hear your sweet, clear voice as you sang the song of your life?

          Here I was when you came of age and stood sniffing this fair wind

Were these not the tears of joy you shed, that dry now upon my cheek?

          As we smell the air and see the dawn and hear a wind in the leaves

Did not the dust to which you had returned to, cling upon my own sweaty neck?

          And am I not now a simple part of the good earth beneath your feet?