The Other Type Of Feeling

You know that feeling?

The excitement you get when you see someone

And that someone’s a stranger

A stranger creeping up on the ground itself

Cautious and casual as not to disturb the air

And they think they’re not being watched

Yet secretly hoping that they are, because

What they’re creeping towards, they believe

Is gold, mercury, or an ancient artifact

An artifact no one but them has discovered

Or ever will—first—in their own time,

And in that moment you get excited too

Except you get excited for a different reason

And when their discovery turns to a shameful frown of defeat

Your lips turn upward towards the sky

Chuckling to yourself, kind of happy, kind of sad

Yet you understand enough to feel commradery

Wishing that stranger was your friend

Just so you could kick em in the pants

infinite visions.

This feeling hangs like ancient fog

over tree limbs lined by new day dawn

where single filed ants march on

the air is still as new born fawn.

His heart beats infinite visions.

Walking among Redwoods

I never stood a chance in the landscape of her eyes

that green mountain range overlooking cloudy skies

but I walked a long while to get to where I’ve been

and I’ll walk a little longer regardless of the wind.

Is it better to escape like a dove into the light

or give into the darkness which creeps in from the night?

There’s something in the hills, either way I’m headed down

as I stream into the valley, with the current I am now

free from all the heartache, I barely make a sound

with the roots of the sequoia among the ancient ground.