Meditation
by Jason C. Motsch
I walked through the fields of my mind this morning.
With a handful of seeds, I scattered them as i strolled
among the wild flowers.
The sun smiled warmly on my face, yellow saucer
of interstellar mother's milk.
I'm preparing the ground for next harvest
in hopes that synaptic trails are fertilized
with nutritious abandonment.
The air currents are strong and the grasses
wave in the wind but I breath and
slowly they come to a still halt for a few seconds.
Then the gusty patterns begin anew,
but the seeds are planted for new vegetation
that will withstand the constant draft,
ushering in a new, loving caress on my cheek in the
gift of the eternal moment.
Bars
by Jason Motsch
The clever but shady fences of the world
are about to be smashed.
They are standing compliantly behind bars,
while the hand of Creation is laid upon the cage,
freeing the slaves of Mind.
They feel the rush of open air and
Gasp at the nature of beauty.
The blood of trees bleed into the
scarred backs of these ex-cons who have
committed no crimes.
The tears of the sky soak their hair with
wild torrents of peaceful abandon.
Beasts of the sea, land and heavens greet
the freed captives with open arms,
celebrating their new-found return.
It is like this when we wake up.
Visions sometimes swoop into new territories
and are co-created by themselves and the muse of the poet.
The freedom from mental slavery to the noise of existence
Is the dream of all who get up, get out of bed and greet a new
dawn of love and peace.
Good morning.
