A world to climb (setting suns at play)


A world to climb (setting suns at play)

Tired, weary, a trek for days beyond the four corners,
Searching far out in the distance, where there is no time,
A warrior seeking the end, edge, fringe here of the earth,
The place where the last of the giants stands tall,
No myth, branches in kind to the half moon above,
Sprouting far their reach, talking the tales of solace,
Except when company arrives, invitations, a world to climb,
To see what it sees above, in both the ancient and the young,
Beyond the desert sea, where open space it drops away,
Take in a rest upon a branch, looking out to worlds as Far,
In a time of song, the delight, in roaming conversations,
In the company of travellers, a lone living forest tree,
With the stories of other places, the kindness along the way,
I’ll just sit here in the branches, to wonder what’s out there born today,
To marvel at each new day, a dreamer in the branches, setting suns at play.

8 responses to “A world to climb (setting suns at play)

  1. This is a beautiful line –
    “To marvel at each new day, a dreamer in the branches, setting suns at play.” Somehow, you do always take me across the treetops… Remind me there is a bigger picture view.

    • It’s like discovering the small things, little talks, whispered conversations first, multiple focal points from different perspectives, and sharing. As the bigger picture develops around any element, or moment.

    • I sometimes avoid rhyme, as takes more thought to handle in skill, without creating ones that are not well constructed for an entire piece

  2. The hunter of Truth
    Steals lightbeams from the sun
    Gathering up his purposes and tethering his heart to them
    Should he lose his way in the wilderness of shadows
    His hunger for beauty casts them
    Like a fly fishing motion
    Cast; return
    Cast; return
    In the wisdoms of our ancestors
    There lies no perfect midnight
    Only dawn breaking
    Like a heart
    Or fragile urn
    Dust, and into dust
    We shall return
    But oh! What mighty journeys this young soul will make, meantime

    • Two days, and a creek – A narrow valley creek, rests between two ridges, As it twists and turns, runs some shallow deep, For churning swift water, turns rock and tree debris, back in the week of rain, These two days, gentle the flow, Between the rough cobbled rock, and stone, water worn, A hard smooth, small, boulder surface, to trek from side to side, Making for the upstream mountainside, through the seven foot guinea grass, To where water runs from surface to underground to surface, While wet boots never dry, each blade of grass takes to shine, Places here the coiling thorn rife vines, cut their marks in colour, Two days the journey of sunshine, two days the mighty rise, Stumble, fall, and dance upon the water, natures fallen trees, They mark the chaos, standing to the edge of one, Out over the water, just looking up to the mountains, Through the broken light, the days they end. Resting on the cobbled rocks, and stone, The story here now rests, where the evening breeze it strikes up friendship, As the tale waits to journey on another day..

      • Entirely profound. Spellbinding, I am left spellbound and any words as remark return void when compared. You dare, mighty warrior of wonder. You dare, and I will dare on too. Vicariously.

      • To dare in a world of many places, of confined, and wide open spaces, where each story lives, a warrior of travel, the wayfarer wonders, and wanders much, as a wayfinder to life, and living in colours, shades, and tints.

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