Walk along the riverbed.
You will come upon a nymph,
Aged and smooth
As a riverstone
Sighing and singing with
The water’s flow
Ask her, “How are you, Nymph?”
And she will
Smile
Up at you and say
“I am but a tired soul
In a tired sea
Of tired souls.”
Her voice the soft bubbling of the river.

Walk among the trees.
You will come upon a dryad,
Ridged and furrowed
As the tree limb
Upon which she sat as she watched
The leaves fall with the autumn breeze
Ask her, “How long have you sat here, Dryad?”
And she will
Gaze
Down at you and say
“I grow and grow old
With the tree.
And the tree has grown tired.”
Her voice the raspy crinkle of the fallen leaves.

Walk amidst the flowers.
You will come upon a deva,
Light and sweet
As the honeysuckle she sat amongst
Watching and humming with
The many bees
Ask her, “Who are you, Deva?”
And she will
Frown
Away from you and say
“We, those of us that
Belong
To this place,
We are Afraid.
And we wish to no longer be Afraid.”
Her voice the wavering stems of delicate flowers.

The nymph chokes on her sisters' remains as
the dryad is cut down and shredded and the deva is
forced into restrained clay pots.

They cannot be freed by one
but by the response
of all.

merlot leaked from my neck
white fog clouding my vision
my chest tightened
i fought back
the urge to fight
and greeted the night
which exploded
into blinding white light

I can’t help but wonder if we have crossed paths
Over and over again, tangling each hello
Catching a hint of mischief when we first bumped into each other
And how easy it was for us to slip into
Conversations, plotting to take on the world
But first things first, we have to catch the moon
And hold the stars ransom in our back pockets
I swear we were pirates singing sea shanties
And conquering cities, but now we settle
For late night dance parties, and one shot, two shot, three
And sure, we are invincible, and I can’t help but wonder
If we have crossed paths over and over again
Our stories layering, life long friends
Or maybe arch nemeses, and each time
Tagging out a new adventure
Where we are chasing after each other
I swear we were renegades, young rebels
Questioning authority and pushing boundaries
Now, we collaborate artistically
Broadcasting in a world of social media, one shout, two shout, three
And sure, we are strong, and I can’t help but wonder
If we have crossed paths over and over again
Our history repeating, kindred spirits
Or maybe pieces of the same soul, and each time
We meet, we find a part of ourselves
We had forgotten

That time I stepped out
And felt a pull deep inside
As ancients drew my breath,
Asked not to neglect their presence
These ghosts of ages past
These ancestral spirits I knew before my birth
A past
Past
All memories
Muscle snd bone memories
Formed but not informed
A peculiar déjà vu.
Were these to be my late counsel?
Guiding me, cleansing me
As I traversed this new path?
I know them awhile
Assailing me for dismissing them then.
I shout to them as winter approaches.
That I wasn’t ready…
It took all my strength
To lift my arm
And wave goodbye.

I wear autumn
Upon my shoulders
Some say I hold fire
My paws dark as coal
And when I run
I am the fog
Early morning mist
Disappearing into the trees
I laugh haunting the shadows
To be mistaken for ghosts
That is autumn--those spirits
And they run their fingers
Through my coat

For three years, I am searching for the scroll
That can tell me about my soul
Where will it go when I will die?
How it makes me alive?
I want to find the origin and the end
And find why is it send
To take birth as me in this world of lives?
Is there something waiting for me to thrive?

What I think about my soul,
Is it should have some magical role
As they said, it never born nor die
And it's something my inside
But what I find wrong is it's not like a burning flame
Nor it can play any supernatural game
It's me but not my physical state
It's more than what they had said.

The concept of soul is very old
It is the difference between heat and cold
Years ago our ancestors asked
'Isn't we all, Living or ….. {need modification}
are made from the elements same
So what makes life moving and motionless dead?'
And as the answer, they said
It's soul.

Then they are writers like you and me
Who made soul, a ghost or a magic key.

But what my soul really is, not more or less
Than my thoughts, my behavior, my edicates,
It is the sum of lessons in my life
It's my obligations to those whom I like
It's my feeling and my believe,
It's what that separate me with all my fellow human beings
Despite we all have almost the same machine.
My soul is what's defines me.
My soul is what's inside me.

This is my journey, to find my soul
After which I reached on the shore (know the truth)

Monk Taio Kaneta

In everyday life
we sacrifice our need to feel
without even knowing it