Longings

Accepting aloneness as a plateau for self-realization

Allows blocked channels of one’s senses to feel open for cleansing.

But…

Longing for intimate contact,

The kind that demands little if anything in return,

Knows that thoughtful approaches require abandoning carelessness.

Longing for reality that compares favorably with dreams,

Remains a challenge for imagination.

For to hold firm to dreams as comfort achieved

Is risking dreams to disappear and die.

Such a loss is akin to the once-singing wood thrush

Now with broken wing,

Unwilling to express melodies,

Unable to fly.

And we of aloneness…

Longing to float above the hate and despair,

Experience vibrations of anticipated fatigue,

As the worn-out efforts to create world peace

Has failed for millennia.

And yes…

Longing to be as one with Nature’s Forest of life,

Where squirrel and deer co-mingle with trees and other biodiversities

Compete harmoniously for ecological niches,

Driven not by Man’s obsession with war,

Or its companions,

Loss and defeat.

Oh, if only…

Music can remain my refuge,

My means for processing actuation

As I discover being alone may well be the secret of invention,

That place where ideas are born,

Where longing can find solace in quiet refuge,

Embracing the Yin and Yang of living,

The paradox of togetherness.