Ants on a dry leaf
conquerers and pioneers
sailing the puddle

I find these days my head bows down,
Lost in trees which bear no roots around.
We all continue to strive for their peaks,
That we might find the validation we believe speaks.
Because in a forest of hard line and concrete,
We think all there is, is a standard to meet.

Our bodies are young, but our souls are so old,
And craving some place wild and bold;
Where the forest which hems is ancient with moss,
And the rivers carve streets no foot can cross.
Tall mountains send out the wake up call,
That every man and woman will fall.

At the end of the day, the wild remains,
And strives to survive through mans foolish claims.
Yet I am lost to the toil and to the strife,
Of simply trying to make it with my life.
But make it where? As what? And why?
Because I try to escape the fact that all will die?

No solace can be found in the wealth of a king,
But give me a glimpse of an eagle on wing,
Amongst valleys and coasts where few eyes see,
Where the snow melts and brings new life to be.
A morning crisp with dew, and a chorus of song,
Some place wild where our old souls belong.

So short-sighted, so corrupt and insincere,
We try and conquer all that we claim to hold dear.
Even though we are but fleeting on a beautiful plain,
We are determined to burn, to clear and contain.
What if we were to become who we could be,
Honouring and reverent of all that is unbound and free?

To feel insignificantly small again,
That is the amazing gift of summit and glen.
A simple reminder that we are all but participants,
Not gods, completely unaware of our littleness.
Sitting in awe of the symphony of life abounding,
Lost in our utterly magnificent surrounding.

So I choose to take to the trails, the ridges and paths,
Which lead to the furthest and cosiest hearths;
To meet other wandering souls who have left behind,
The confusion and delusion of a self-obsessed mind.
And be prepared to lose and find myself again,
Away, into a wild embrace, her rugged domain.

My soul cries for freedom, some vision to see,
New life bursting as a bud on every tree.
Swept up in the miracle of a tale much bigger,
Than the measurable wealth of my yearly figure.
For in the wild, can be found the perspective I need,
For my searching soul to truly be freed.

Distant shores of France,
Toward you I advance,
Looking for your water.
The sun seems to beam down,
Oppressing the nearby town,
Where I sit talking to a doctor's daughter.
Her clothing looks so chic,
I dare the boy next to me to speak,
Enchanting him with my eyes.
Dare I say this is my place,
I run around the forest with haste,
Expecting a strange man to become wise.
I feel safe at the stump of a tree,
Imagining a family of three
Beautiful birds chirping in the sunlight.
What will happen to me when I get gray and old?
Will I remember the stories I once told,
The ones that brought me joy and fright?
I guess we will just have to see,
Go along with the processes that be,
Dreaming of our youth when it has gone.
I will always admire the country,
Looking upon the sea and its bounty,
Alongside the doctor's daughter until dawn.

I hiked up the highest hill
To watch the sun go down
On your birthday
On a not quite full moon of April

I stared right in it with such thrill
And felt the blood neon colours
Of your departure
Rush through my veins and freezing me still

Stood in awe of this miracle I promised I will
Find an aperture
As I’m about to take on this solo adventure
Of a lifetime of dreams I’ve yet to fulfil.

The old man turned back to give one last smile
And he raised his mug in a greeting stopping in the aisle
And I remember the days when I first met him
Learning to have that yellow cup filled to the lid

He throws back the last “sweetheart” he will probably ever call me
And I tell him to “drive safe”, “be careful”, and a sad “see you maybe”
The way his eyes lit up when I told him that I was finally
Moving onto bigger and better things

Three years, three jobs, two cities, two names
And every ‘by chance’ meeting punctuated with a wave
And the old man says he knows “ill be great”
And I smile bitterly as we go our separate ways

Roger, you give me hope.
In our small interactions
That things will be ok
Because even when things change
Some people always stay the same

Coffee.
eight cream, no sugar
Hi sweetheart, it's been a while

From a long and dusty farm road
there was a scarecrow waving
Standing on a pole in a cornfield
meanwhile the sun was blazing

I started walking up to him
and when I was almost near
It took of his straw hat, gave a smile
and told me to have no fear

Welcome visitor he shouted
would you like to play a game
please enter my corn maze for a walk
and if you get lost just call my name.

then with an elegant swing
he'd opened the gate
Told me not to rush
he was opened until late.

The maze was well maintained
paths were clean and wide
rabbits running all around
it was a beautiful sight

But then all of a sudden
scenery drastically changed
corn was brown and dead
daylight seemed deranged

I got the creepiest feeling
that I was being spied
somebody was watching me
opaque to my sight

Suddenly I was on the ground
I must have tripped over a stone
after taking a closer and better look
it turned out to be a human bone

It's a ****** mess I am in now
I have really lost the way
how to get out of this maze
what did that scarecrow say

In order to get out the maze
I have to call his name
he can guide me back to start
and end this sinister game

Orphic music started playing
when it came to my mind
He did not even mention his name
I was being there confined