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.
Reading
by Jason Motsch
Confronting the demons within,
Man becomes afraid.
It is everywhere and nowhere.
The fruits of the mind are endless,
splashed across the Universe
like the stuff of creation.
Some call destruction by myriad names.
Others call love by a meadow of light flowers,
Infinite and eternal.
I choose to be a harmonious bird instead of
a broken piano.
A gear in the cosmos' clock instead of
a rogue atom.
I suppose human kind will always have turmoil.
I'll continue to open the curtains in the morning and
let the sun shine brightly on my soul,
sipping a cup of coffee, and reading myself
into the day, becoming one with my creator's world,
as it is meant to be.
Railway
by Jason Motsch.
My mind is a railway station,
with many trains converging on the tracks.
Passengers spill out of cars and
Into the city where they live out their lives.
There are parts of town I have not visited for awhile,
Some way too much
And some not at all.
These travellers turned denizens form the body
Of my life.
Sometimes I am not cautious enough when
Inspecting for explosives.
Whole city blocks erupt in fearful destruction.
Jesus and Buddha have walked these streets
Handing out free food and I try to follow them
When I think of it.
But sometimes the sewers call and I am swimming in sludge.
All in all, though, its a city on a hill lit by the sun
and I am getting better at rooting out the gangs that roam
the alleyways looking for trouble.
My thoughts are living proof of successful missions
Into unrestful parts of the suburbs.
Neighborhood watch groups are set up now to police
the avenues of my being.
I let in a little of everything.
I am small.
I am tall.
I am human.
I am a traveller.
