A blank page

I have been writing so much about transparent living recently - a part of that is sharing our creativity with others even in its most vulnerable form. You have all seen my photography and read my writing and loving rambles. So, now, here is some of my poetry too. 

Several years ago I spent a month in the Alps. I will never forget that experience. It was then that I learned that mountains are my sacred place; I left a part of my heart in those heights. I wrote this (and took that photo) there. 



A blank page

Is a world onto itself

It is a grove of birch trees

Crest clouds embracing jagged peaks

The afternoon sun and the shifting shadows

Flowers through the window panes

Cold concrete in a sea of green

Its is smiles in my direction and a piercing gaze


A blank page

Is a melody of longing

It is the multi tonal mountain wind

The whisper of a muddy river that yearns for blue

The distant laughter of children playing

Marmot whistles, and bluebird chimes

Faint voices in the night

Its is the roar of civilization and the silence of the earth


A blank page

Is a welcome illusion

Grand phrases with little meaning

Knowledge of oneself and others

Simplicity and complexity

The haste of a lover’s whispered words

Minutes, hours, days, and years

- It is Time.


A blank page

Is all I ever wanted.