Infinitesimally Minuscule

 

Can you see me there...

Do you dare to even glance?

I am the sunrise that says, 

“We are still here.”

I am that which crawls upon the ground.

Do you think about treading upon my back? 

And that which takes wing,

fading into the sky

Can you feel its flutter as it passes by? 

Must there always be a show

before you know 

we are here? 

We are but an infinitesimal pulse within the heartbeat of Existence.

Minuscule..

If the Universe should tread upon your back,

would you not feel the pain?

Nature mourns her losses

and quietly rejoices in her accomplishments

while humankind never has enough, 

never does enough,

never is enough

to be content.

I am the busy bee that works to live

Often hanging on to my sanity by a thread while the world around me is hurtling towards destruction.

She watches it all silently, faithfully turning on her light at day’s end. 

Do we appreciate the constant reliability of all that

contributes to the whole,

that creates the pulse,

the heartbeat

of life? 

I am brilliant, but you must take the time to glimpse

the magnificence that is here and gone in the blink of Eternity’s eye. 

We are eternal, not immortal. 

Infinity has no timepiece,

knows nothing of beginning or end

and stops for no man’s desperate cry for salvation

from what he has wrought upon himself.

Do you know your place on the wheel,

can you sing with the spheres,

drift on the wind

and be at peace with

being 

infinitesimally minuscule? 

Cheryl Pennington

Copyright words and images

2020

(The year that should never have been)

Abandoned

Displaced,

dropped from space

into this human race,

leaving no trace,

my true identity
erased.

.

Alone

I roam

the minutes 

of the long days

spinning into months

that turn to years.

With tears I mark

the passing.

Glimpses,

like shadows

viewed in the periphery

of my clouded vision,

too full of chaos

and sound

around 

me

I need to hear

your voice, Mother,

to feel your love, Father

the kinship of a brother

that I never really knew

beyond our childish

games-our names

scratched on

the sidewalk.

Come back!

What I lack

is kindred spirit,

the connection,

resurrection

of the flame to

ease the shame

of forgetting

and regretting 

the fall.

It was but for such an  error

that I walk through life in terror,

neither knowing friend or foe

and no matter where I go, it follows.

fear always an unwilling guest

serving pain in spite of all my best

efforts to deflect,

reject

the lie.

Have

I

been

abandoned

in this 

world

of angry

souls?

Will you ever come to take me back

into that bosom of pure energy

where love is all that exists?

Home.

CKP words and images 2020

The Gleaning

Listen, can you hear?

Can you see the tears

her heart sheds

for her children? 

From birth

the Earth

sustains,

remains

constant,

reliable,

viable,

strong.

How long?

CKP copyright 2020

Silent Watching....

The elders watched from the precipice of destruction,

stoic, unmoved in their constant vigil,

feeling mildly perturbed

by it all.

The ancient one shivered against the untimely chill

that had crept insidiously over the season,

forcing his tribe to take to the skies

all too soon, seeking warmth-

sustenance.

The Great Hunter finished the remains of its meal

wondering when the last kill would be

as the Keepers pushed further in,

stripping away the vestiges of

their life’s blood.

They bowed their heads in reverent shame for

such disregard of their Mother’s world,

their chirping drowned by the clamor

of progress, the cacophony

maddening.

She made them stewards of her Creation,

they hold her Essence in their hands,

delicate, brilliant, mighty, precious!

How could they betray her trust

for gold dust?

Can they not see the universe in a grain of sand,

feel her breath in the rush of the wind,

see her artistry painted across the 

canvas of a blue sky in the 

rainbow after a storm?

Her children remain hopeful in their quest

for new awakening, their message plain 

to the loyal who choose to see it

etched on their faces-

“Her heart is breaking..”

What is written on the shores of time for

this human race, then, as it spins itself

wildly into eventual extinction,

guided not by love decreed

but stark, unbridled greed?

Words of shame and empty dreams lay

 broken, fading under a remorseless sun

as Creation toils to rebuild itself

as it is loathe and wont to do-

again and again.

The sun rises and sets

as Nature weeps

for what was lost

awaiting eventuality...

for they understand they are the true Keepers,

the constant, faithful, vigilant

unrelenting survivors

that honor the

 dream...

The simple, hopeful thought to not be alone

within the vastness of Eternity

that became an idea of 

the expansion

of Love.

How can we, the Keepers

of the Creator’s original thought

betray such a gift? 

The Trickster speaks,

your mind he seeks

to have and hold

next to his gold

while the hell

He creates

festers and waits

to be fed

with the dead

flesh he vowed

 with head bowed 

to the lie.

Look up!

Reach for the Light

within plain sight

and live! 

CKP words and photos

2020

Let’s hope so, Bob.....click the link for his message to you..oo..oo....

https://youtu.be/zaGUr6wzyT8

Be sure to stop off for a beer and conversation over at Dan Antion’s Place 

And please don’t be silent. We love comments! 

Indelible

Once upon a lifetime a seed of love finds a fertile place...

in a lonely heart

and plants itself-

waiting, hoping, longing

for the warmth of recognition.

Time passing unnoticed, unreturned and unappreciated, the bloom fading...

Withers

hope slipping into dark oblivion

drowned in a sea of tears,

buried treasure.

Silence, masquerading as the forgotten, disguising pain transformed into growth...

heart beats in spite of longing

to be free of sorrow,

no tomorrow

with sharp reminders

of rejection.

Time, the great amnesiac-cajoling, consoling the heart into release....

belief

that past is past and 

gone is gone.

Healed,

concealed 

the scar lies

dormant.

Then gravity takes hold, pulling the soul into the cemetery of regret..

the sweet sting

of remembrance

like the scent of a 

Spring bloom

long gone from the garden,

like a sunset that 

remains unequalled,

free floating once more

as a wisp of Summer air-

unexpected, unfair.

Indelible.

CKP Photos and words 2020