At first light trudging through the Arctic Snow,
Is it for thrill or just a Facebook photo show?
As the Arctic wind buffets our flushed face,
The long-awaited walk soon becomes a shambles of a race.
Hands morph to splintered wood, eyebrows deftly freeze,
And yet the brochure promised we’d do this trek with ease.
Soldier on, embrace the frigid grind,
Pray aloud that inner fortitude to find,
Not a sound outside our laden breath,
Every move made with fractured hapless stealth.
But coupled to the cold a streaming sweat,
A larger wager would I not have surely bet,
That a saunter on the glistening Arctic Tundra
Would at most develop the art of soothing Mantra.

Then a booming voice disturbs this quiet introspection,
As the guide engages in frantic group inspection,
His walkie talkie comes suddenly to life,
Stern commands soon wailing shrill with strife.
Bears ahead with teenage cubs in tow,
Keep down, stay low,
Curb the chatter, pretend you’re but a stone,
Form a line, don’t venture out alone;
Rifle’s cocked, don't turn around,
Polar bears don't run - they bound.
Now move backwards, avoid their steely gaze,
Take full advantage of this soaring Polar haze.

Maybe minutes, but seemingly an age,
As we shuffle blindly stage by stumbling stage;
Our Dunkirk - the waiting rubber boats,
Ecstatic for anything that somehow runs and floats.
Back to the ship, sodden and quite sore,
Not to mention frozen to the epicenter of our core,
We huddle around cups of steaming tea,
Sharing stories of all we had to fear and see.
You may well ask, was this the fateful end,
Did we to natures will forlornly yield and bend?

It's true the thought did rather cross our minds,
Fearful of more unscripted scrapes and woeful binds,
However, a good sleep and liquid strength galore,
Did somewhat mollify that sorry shameful score.
For as dawn broke early the next day,
To a person did we in seeming chorus say:
Off we trudge as more adventure waits,
To experience all that Nature's majesty creates,
Our only thought one of craving more,
And so we went, still frozen to our core.

Wilderness seasons

There was a time,
Not too long ago,
When I was lost;
No roots, no fruit,
Wandering and shallow.
Further along, I acknowledge,
The riches taught
During that wilderness season:
Plant myself wisely,
And let true wisdom mellow.

I can only carry these thoughts
as far as the wind will blow
Even when I lay me down
they’ll dictate where I go
Beside a tree I find my rest
only to rise when they’d say so
Beneath its branch I sow a thought
like leaves I watch it grow

By a river I make my bed
where my thinking freely flows
like rushing water, runs my head
my thoughts ebb and flow
Near the fire I watch the flames
I light my thoughts aglow
they’ll burn tomorrow new desires
I have no strength to say ‘no’

It is me tonight

that will need
to find  release
through ******

Find a quiet place
on the edge of
your bed

and join me

he had a special place in my heart, though he had it all.

As a kid, I admired all the celestial bodies that I can put in pages, I can see how the constellations are connected to my veins and how the moon is shaped like your eyes.

The more I grow older, the further I learn to wander in the garden, a wilderness where the islands haven't been named, parallels have intertwined and orbits that have once collided.

Oceans were calling me to test its depth— the calmness of it reminds me of you, the stillness of it brought terror as the deep waters are not moving. you're a scenery in a post card that I could receive but not enough to love me.

i thought i was a voice
in the wilderness
until i heard a voice
in the wilderness