Becoming

Becoming
By Jason C. Motsch


The golden spiral tail jars my memory with the
Sun drenched veil it lays upon my soul.
Meadows and forests speak foreign tongues,
Sweeping my heart into migrating spirit houses.
Filled with amber light from sacred black holes,
Noble animals radiate with the density of a god.
The rooted webbing of the universe feeds
Everything as we exist just above the surface,
Carried by rolling waves of illuminated splendor,
a shadow away from becoming.

Reading

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.