Bound to the river

There are places I go
  When the world speaks far too much of time
And place.
 I find myself lost, in the hypnotic moan of the river
Wandering through fog thick enough to blanket
The voices in my head with silence
Briefly I trace the initials carved into wooden guard rails,
And pretend to know more than the scar they've left behind
Staring into an unforgiving depth, I imagine what they had seen
A bountiful river illuminated by midafternoon       sun
The way her lips curved, modestly
   and the way he stumbled at first, without words to guide him.
Between them the water screamed a welcome, promising more than it should.
That is a time forgotten,
   I watch myself, a reflection in the water against a golden light.
Wondering how many others have longingly stared into their own selves, wishing to be swallowed.
I am present, in this reality
Drawn to the history left in currents,
Words abandoned carelessly in the flow,
The amity is unspoken between us
In the dull morning glow,
         The water welcomes me,
 with more
   Accord then I have shown.

Realization of transient nature

Sprawled before me, a grove

      Grappling towards the sky, but too thin to blanket it, they sigh against the wind

       Muffled by my own laden breathing

I've spent my time on something.

           I began to travel slow, it is lonely at first,
I move meticulously,

Through all the forests I've known, but never quite
 Traversed alone,

Learning what it means to be transient 

To remain lightfooted, and absorb

Taking in the surroundings, but not enough to leave a footprint
Fleeting, as if staring too long will

Compromise the very allure of the woods
I glide

Like an apparition on desperate fingertips,  lingering above the brush

I've  spent my time observing, picking at the way

The tree roots grow above ground,

As if they were legs that could follow my path,

And briefly, I wished they could,
A breeze tickles down my neck,
A wind that

That knows far too much about time

But all too little about permanence.

Time is fleeting, without regard to lingering stares, even if your eyes are not 

Quite finished reading the landscape.

I began to travel farther,

Going to places I had only heard about in passing, vast depth and vehement waves

Enveloped my mind, 

Each crash akin to my own pulse

Rythmic beating against an unretreating shoreline, unapologetic to the sea.

I began to travel home,

    With the realization that it was just a word

But each step closer, harder to take then the last. Bound by the responsibilities associated with growing up

I began to travel inside,

Exploring places I couldn't seem to find

A vast ocean melded with the forest 

      Pounding against hollow trunks 

I am Submerged and surrounded, 

 A cluster of orange lotuses blur my vision, 

       Dancing around, lively.

The leaves hum my name

I exhale and push the blossoms away, 

Quiet sunset skies, wrapped in gentle purples and blush illuminate the surface

 Broken by the ripples in the water,

Darkness closes over me

Delivering me from wonderland 

I forget to travel,

Usually when I am too busy

           Exsisting 

Sometimes my abiltiy is restricted, bound by the crushing 

Tether of a better life.

One that I can no longer see myself a part of.

I force myself to travel, pick apart the ways in which here and now can change

The key is to never be contented with how much you've seen, but to turn restlessly in the night  with how many ways it can be percieved.

Surreal

I have walked the line,
Every senerio in my head has long since
  Played their course,
Fact and fantasy find themselves intertwined
Within one another
Masking the way I have come,
  Curioser it becomes,
the more lost I feel
The more sentient I am.
     Slipping farther through
The woodland, adrift among the trees
I become
Aware that
    Home is a place I have not felt,
And
Comfort is a treasure untold,
Among the towers and the lullaby of
Rain, woven with my own rythmic beating
I begin to grasp that
I have misplaced myself in a wonderland,
              Always ephemeral
And in that, I find peace.

Fear

fear is a blank slate,
  Not knowing where your feet will land one moment to the next, transient in space and mesmerized by the way everything you want
sparkles
 just out of grasp,
you're left grappling and gasping, leaning towards whatever gives you solidarity.
Only to find that has become vapor,
The solid rock wall beneath you gives way and you are floating.
Suspended by things you never thought you'd feel:
Regret burning on your tongue like a taste that's always lingered but was never quite pungent enough to make you realize it was poison
   And still you can't bring yourself to spit it out.