Golden Bay

I suppose, technically, I am referring to Wainui Bay, a place of indelible beauty and comfort (at least to me), north and west of the Abel Tasman Track on the South Island of New Zealand. It was one of those places where you could be wading in the ocean and yet see some peaks in the distance still covered in snow. The imagery in this place was quite staggering, as were many places, really, but I felt I could lose myself (and depending on the tides, trap myself) in the nooks, coves and small beaches of the area. Sometimes, I wonder if I still do... memory being what it is. So, what follows is a little stream of consciousness/blank verse about thoughts and such while walking across the bay and the area. I had written these thoughts down while in New Zealand but was finally able to put them in some cohesive format (um, at least for me I guess :)

'Golden Bay'

A drifting illusion on water
Amid such quiet calm
Waiting...
Beyond a distant twilight,
Lingering upon a gentle shore.

A passing thought in silence
Burdened by the tempestuous wind
Hoping...
Reaching toward your caress
Within the memory of simpler days.

Moments of serenity...
Lost to vanity and pride.

An image of a wistful dream
Borne in a sea of stars
Wishing...
To yield our tempered passion,
Hidden beneath the scars of night.

An illusion on water,
Carried by the wind.
Wanting...
Seeking some hope of resolution,
Upon the solace of your distant shore.

C.

Haikus...

I have never really attemped haikus before. I mean, I knew how to do them, but something never really clicked. However, I started thinking of some old work and wanted to see it in haiku format among other things. Funny, I was vaguely inspired by an old 'Calvin and Hobbes' strip where Calvin offers a haiku to a sleeping Hobbes... quite funny, if you are a fan of the classic comic. In any event...

'Fontevraud Abbey'

Crumbling ruins...
Whisper in silent repose
Duchess and King.

Ok, so one old piece... the following is new.

'Golden Bay'

Such quiet calm...
Comfort upon a distant shore
Warm... your caress.

C.

The Nature of Thought...

This is similar to the contemplation of the contemplative mind, but I digress and wonder about the nature of thought or more precisely, the nature of our thoughts.  I have argued, perhaps weakly, that our thoughts aid in the perception of the universe at large, maybe even aided in the creation of the universe... or someone's thoughts at least.  Since we are comprised of the same elements as the stars themselves, I am inclined to feel our thoughts and words have real power.  Certainly not our everyday conversation, such as 'I feel like getting a beer' or 'Like, that outfit is totally...' (maybe those types of thoughts help wipe out star systems... celebrity supernovas?).  Sometimes, though, an excellent conversation can help contribute to the wealth of wonder amid the stars and ourselves.  Admittedly, most conversations would not fall into such a category, though perhaps the universe loves the ordinary as much as the extraordinary.  I suppose it would be arrogant to think otherwise.  Of course, maybe one must be able to percieve the connection between our hearts and the beating heart of creation in order to effect an influence upon what awaits in the gulf between the stars.  And there is simply the idea that just because we are made of the same elements of the stars and planets, we have no influence whatsoever... again, arrogant egos.  Still, I like to think we are connected and that thought, like many others, is a part of the nature of thought itself.  It gives me as much comfort as I need sometimes, though not necessarily all the comfort I want, but who really gets such comfort these days?  Maybe I will simply never be truly satisfied, and always searching for an answer when one might never have existed in the first place.  It is certainly a possibility... I am ok with that.  I know my path.  It is one I accept, though I may not like it... I still accept it.  I suppose that might be the nature of my struggle within the nature of thought.  In order to seek such a higher purpose, I have to give up what I might not be prepared to give.  It is something I do contemplate as I delve further into the ideas of thought.  

I have left so much behind... I am not sure I am capable of taking the necessary steps.  Maybe none of us are.  It should make me feel better, but it does not.  

C.

Memories Of This Life...

'Memories of This Life'

A tempering calm amid the burden of sin,
Instinct laughing in the weathering face of time;
Resolve eroding with every 'might-have-been',
A singular, tangible moment our only crime.

Remnants within seconds lost to the gulf of night,
Awakening upon the beauty of a far-green shore;
Distant echoes of indelible days unfurl beyond sight,
A heart yielding yet wanting for more.

For all such solace beyond the thoughts of love,
I can put aside the ache and shadow of our strife;
A wandering soul with nothing left to prove,
Hope fulfilled in the memory of this life.

C.

Staving Off The Night...

Our world is changing...

For good or ill, I have not the insight or the arrogance to say. Change for the sake of change is simply foolish, but then so is complacency for its own sake. While most of us have a desire to fight shifts in the political, cultural, physical and personal landscape, such shifts are inevitable. Nothing, except extinction, can really stop it. Fear usually stems from the fears of change. For in that fear lies the deepest fear of all: loss... loss of life, property, love... self. Fear is unknown, and that is simply why so many fear the night, the primeval unknown. And the future? The ultimate unknown. Hence the debates, some civil, some outrageous, about futures we can and cannot control. In truth, while we say we control our own destiny (oft cliched thanks to sporting events), only the present moment is under our direct control. That is the choice we have... the only choice. If in that moment, the future changes, well... so be it. Such becomes the nature of our existence along the roads we travel, literally and metaphorically. The Holmesian mirror of hindsight can temper new choices, open up new pathways, but in the end, the speed at which present and future collide can overwhelm even the most logical and stoic of philosophers just as it blinds almost every romantic... and most of us in-between. Change... change is our blessing and curse... one of many unique gifts, this capacity of will. Certainly not our greatest gift (in my rather minority opinion), but good enough at times for us to perceive a glimmer of the future hidden in the depths of the past.

In closing, I can only offer my own hopes... in the best way I can. I had written the following several months ago for reasons that matter little now, except one. It is all I can do to help stave off the night...

'The path we walk is lined with the voices of the distant past, our own past, the present, and a future which conceals itself until it merges with the present. Those voices are the words of time. They are the rocks we stop and pick up and examine along the way, a seashell that might be more enduring than another, a glint of starlight dancing upon calm waters, or the gentle calling of the wind from a distant, verdant shore. As we walk, we can choose to leave our own words for time to hear, for the posterity of those that might decide to pick you up one day and see how extraordinary you were to generations hence. Our legacy is not the visceral monuments of our arrogance and perceived greatness, but in what we carry with us... what is unique in all of us.'

The world is changing... and that is well.

C.

Excerpts From A (now) Uncluttered Mind...

Well, Mom has come through her surgery ok, and appears to be doing quite well, though I think she over did it today.  Still, she should be fine unless somehting unforseen comes up...

It has been a fairly long week, though not as tough as some, but mostly dealing with helping my Mom out while she has been out for surgery.  That was mostly from worry, because I am happy to help family out when they need me... story of my life, to be fair.  Regardless, one gets random thoughts about all the strangeness in this life and it starts to clutter up the noggin some. So, I figured, in lieu of being particularly poignant and/or obtuse (which, regrettably, can happen simultaneously... what's the point of being poignant when no one gets the point... *sigh*), I thought I would clean out some of the mental debris that has been accumulating during this week.  Also, I have a couple of writing projects I have been alternately stalling and starting on (these things happen), and the mere exercise of doing this helps now and then... 

So, some random thoughts but not necessarily random in purpose...

So, am I going to see some of that 170 million spent on the 'national celebration'?  If not, why wasn't I invited? (and it's not a question of whether I would go or not, it's the principle of the thing :)

Though it's rather cold, ice cream sounds good at the moment.

Since the new president is freezing White House staffer's salaries of over 100,000, does that mean he is taking the job pro bono(since his salary is around a quarter of a million a year)? And what if you were making 98,000... do you get the shaft, or would you be one of those real troopers and take the hit for the good of the nation?

I think Congress should follow the White House's lead... most of them don't need the money either.  If they all did it, in a couple of years we could just pay off the inauguration :)

Why is it ok to take back all the wonderful things we say in love, but it is never possible to take back some of the horrible things we might say in anger... I might argue the sting from the words in love can be worse.  How arrogant we are in the passion of love. (note: guilty as charged, and if you think you are not... then you have never been in love)

We are all responsible for the mess we have created... I wonder if the stain on our souls can ever be cleansed.

I really hope the Steelers don't get a 6th Super Bowl ring... Steelers fans are bad enough... yes, I know, so are Cowboys fans, but I am not one of those Cowboys fans.

I need to be back on a beach...

(Am I the only person that thinks in parantheticals?)

Strange, I really know what it is like to be a pebble trying to stop an avalanche... worse, when you see it so clearly, and you know what is going to happen and have no way of stopping it... feeling powerless against the tide of history is a relatively normal occurrence for me.

The saying goes, 'you are only as old as you feel'... today, I don't know how old, or young I feel... but, I was always old, sooo...

Hmmm.... still a little cluttered, but less so than this morning.  It's a start...

C.

Thoughts On Genetic Memory

Wow, it has been awhile since I have written here.  Not unintentionally, I guess.  Simply working on other projects and having two conventions around the holidays will do that.  Well, then on to the actual matter at hand...

The idea of genetic, or racial and collective memory is not new.  I suppose the term genetic memory is more commonly used, as racial memory is decidedly un p.c, and collective memory seems more metaphysical.  For my part, I probably use the term collective memory and genetic memory more often.  While I have understood the concept of collective memory for many years, I really did not think about it as much until I read Arthur C. Clarke's groundbreaking book Childhood's End.  Without revealing too much regarding the book (and though from 1952 I highly recommend reading it), aliens come to the planet and demand the end of hostilities and potential nuclear war.  I know, sounds like a recent and not so recent movie, but Childhood's End is much more of a philosophical read, as Clarke delves into not only our past fears, but our future ones as well.  Clarke uses the term racial memory in the book, but I find the term genetic memory more palpable these days.  Further, my understanding of genetic memory hearkens to Clarke's ideas in this regard.  Put simply, Childhood's End is a tale of innocence lost (hence the title) and how we must eventually come to terms with our collective and individual genetic memories.

What, then is genetic memory?  Is it simply instinct, our natural reaction to images, sounds, words, feelings? Or is it something higher, a collective memory that reaches from a future already written though without a clear understanding.  In science fiction or science philosophy, I can easily propose such questions; however, the science of the 21st century might find the idea of a future memory within our genetic structure laughable.  Therefore, I am delving truly into the realm of philosophy based on some good reading and probably gut instinct (or gut insanity depending on who you ask and how you feel in the matter).  Regardless, I can only offer my view, which has been shaped through my own ruminations, writings, and reading on the subject.  To me, I see this memory in action in many ways, especially in the instinct of our fears, our acquiescence in the strangest of situations, and our ever popular mob mentality.  I understand it in my darkest moments, in the abyss of thought that can drag you into places you never wanted.  And yet, I feel it in the reflection of the light of the universe in our eyes, the gentle hope of a new day, the promise of a home in the cradle of stars.  We are the worst and the best in ourselves, and much of it comes from our instinct to hate and our instinct to love, what is written in our genetic code, our memory of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

While this memory can be on a collective level, it can be, at least to my mind, exceedingly personal.  I have noted this recently in some of my writings, wondering if a few of the things I had written were less about present inspiration but more drawing from a memory of the future.  It could be I simply have the mirror of hindsight, though a few poems and commentaries seemed remarkably prescient and appropriate.  Of course, considering the way I write, it is rather easy to project one piece upon multiple situations.  The cynic would merely opine that it is all mere coincidence, and some part of me would be inclined to agree.  The realist in me notes my penchant for overthinking at times.  The optimist, the dreamer... the romantic, the man who has seen so much wonder in this amazing universe, been given so much for so little in return, understands the truth, even if it is only a small truth.  The higher truths tend to escape us anyways, even when we are confident in our understanding, as I thought so many times, especially in the vanity of youth.  On the other hand, I could be drawing upon that memory even now, yielding only to the truth that exists in all of us.  

One thing I do know, after reading Childhood's End, I never looked at the stars quite the same way.  We are the universe made manifest, after all... and knowing that has helped me understand, for good or ill, past memories of future's days.

C.

All the Best Holiday Wishes...

For most of us, and for almost all the people I know, the day approaches (and for some in other parts of the world, it has already arrived :) and the world seems to take a step back. Our overwhelming concerns and worry ease if but for a moment, and we can celebrate this day in whatever manner befits our hearts, whether it is the joy of seeing the ones we care about tear into their new gifts, the excitement of seeing old friends and family (or new ones for that matter), or simply relaxing with good company and having a fine holiday meal. Many of us perhaps enjoy all three. In many ways I am blessed in that regard, and my hope is that you are blessed in such a manner as well. Of course, I would wish such a thing any time of the year, for how we feel during the holidays certainly can carry over into our daily lives and into the next year. The world can be a terrible, cruel place, and what we take with us during this time can give us a little comfort and solace in the face of the trials and travails of the coming year. 

The holiday allows us to reflect, to renew, to understand, and to hope. It reminds us that we can set aside all grief and pain and seek only fellowship and peace. Admitedly, I am hardly being realistic, but if any time of the year has a place for idealism, this would be such a time. Besides, we can all use a little more hope in our lives, especially now. To that end, my ideal gift to all of you is my fond hope for you and yours during the holiday and for the upcoming year. May it be fruitful and blessed in all things, and may the light of the universe shine brightly in your hearts and in all that you do.

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year :)

Chris

Cheese

One of my favorite quotes is G.K Chesterton's comment about poetry and cheese: 'Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.' Well, I am breaking my silence on this matter this morning after thinking of the many moments when I would be quietly getting a piece of cheese out of the 'fridge when all of a sudden Merry (a very small shi tzu/ schnauser combination) is right next to me waiting for her share of the goodness. For being basically brain-dead (she barks at everything, even me), she is awful clever about food :)

'Cheese'

swiss cheddar
gouda brie pepper jack too
little growl tail wagging
waiting for a bite
grated unwrapped block
sliced matters not
always knows ready to beg
little growl tail wagging
so cute
provolone shredded deli
style too
smiling laughing antics
so many times
swiss cheddar
little growl tail wagging
off with her prize...
dogs and cheese
who knew?

C.

Solace of Love

I actually wrote an entry called 'Solace' a long while back, but it was more a question than the subject here, the idea of solace within love, which is certainly an ideal to seek for, and what love usually brings, or can bring if we are willing to let it.  So, I just put a few words regarding the subject down and then went from there... sort of how it works with me.

'Solace of Love'

I long for your solace...

Gentle thoughts of unending days
Memories fresh in glorious repose
A tender caress eases so many
Aches of a weary heart.

I yearn for your comfort...

Quiet calm in the deep of night
Time lingering between seconds
Yielding to an enfolding desire
Union in depths unbound.

I wait for your touch...

Elegant splendor amid the joy of 'morn
Moments beyond a cradle of stars
Rest embracing all existence
Manifest in this light of the soul.

I long for the solace of your love...

C.

Erratic Errata From the Past Couple of Months...

I am not sure if I am going to make sense at all, but sometimes you just need to write and get it all out there, and I promised myself, if I did, then I would hold nothing back... some of this is simply an exercise in writing, a little is what has needed to be said for awhile, the rest is meandering nonsense... which, to be fair, is pretty normal for me.

This past weekend has been a blur, and while it is now Tuesday, my brain is still spinning from having to do so much for really so little a show.  Of course, being tragically understaffed except in my department was the critical factor, and without the help I had I might have been more insane. Lucky me, I only went half mad.  In truth, things at the show could have gone much worse, and many, many folks had an awesome time, more than did not.  Even the fine folks that worked for me had a fantastic time, but I am sure some of that has to be how easy I was to work for, lol (and the bribes in alcohol).  Still, I had moments of awesome mixed with a bit of stress, usually trying to fix things that were not thought about, or at least forgotten by others.  Silly me and my memory.  In truth, I sensed what would occur... knew it.  I have excellent instincts, though I rarely listen to them because I am too trusting of others, and often afraid of giving in to my instincts.  Just as well, because there were a few smart-asses I wanted to murder, sooo... instead I remained my usual restrained, congenial and courteous self, treating the staff, con-goers and guests with all the dignity and grace I could muster, which must have been a lot.  The thing is, as much as I may want to give in, I have to be the man I was meant to be lest I destroy the best part of myself.  I know in so many ways I am a product of another time and I constantly have to live with the consequences of the nature of my heart.  It served me well to a degree this past weekend and over the past couple of months while away.  And yes, I think about all the possibilities... all of them.  Sometimes, it feels as if I have stepped into one of my stories and live, if for a moment, an alternate life.  Other times, a memory steps in, takes hold, and leaves me breathless.  In the end, my nature forces me to alleviate the pressure the only way I know how: boring the crap out of my readers, lol.  

I do offer a caveat, some of what I am doing can be construed as whining/complaining, and if that is how you see it, certainly you are entitled to think in whatever manner seems essential to you.  I only put the words to page and let the world decide, for it must.  The rest is mere semantics.  I have written for the sake of others and for myself.  Now, I seem to only write for whatever is left in the depth of my heart.  It is hard to come back from such depths when you understand the truth in your soul, when you understand you cannot go back to a previous journey.  All you have is the one in front of you.  No magic time machines... no alternate realities (even if it might make good fiction), only dreams of a dream that fade in quiet of the night, the wolf nipping at your heels.  I felt it more and more throughout the last holiday and will feel it again as the current one approaches.  If you knew what I had known, perhaps you will understand.  The currents that flow from the edge of time through the truth of my soul cannot forget... nor should it.  Yes, it waits in places that I push away when the memory returns, or when I want to feel again.  And yet, it dominates my instincts I think, further showing how much of a fool I really am.  Of course, I understand completely the nature of my foolishness, so shame on me in that regard.  

I can only offer who I am to the burning heart of the cosmos... I can only offer my words to ease any suffering in the cradle of time.  I know the truth of what I see and can only give this.  For all the wandering across the sea, for all the travels and travails, this is what I understand.  I will give everything in this understanding of us all.  If it means I remain a bit out of place in time, if I must continue to treat people with the dignity I think they deserve (whether they actually deserve it or not), then so be it.  I would do so until the stars burns cold... 

As a species, we can be so much more than contained within Sagan's 'pale blue dot'... I suppose I can only do my part one life at a time.

C.

The Holiday Season...

It is possible I posted something about this before... maybe a couple of years back... anyway, prolly bears repeating :)

I have never been one to get into the 'spirit' of the Holidays. In general, I feel if a person is going to evoke the holiday 'spirit', then they should do so year round rather than be hypocritical for a month or so. I would like to think I am the same kind and generous person year round. Admittedly, I sort of have to, being in the anime convention business. One might argue being the type of person I am is not necessary, but I digress for personality does go a long way in garnering repeat business and happy customers. I have seen many a vendor and exhibitor treat their customers with disdain and disrespect and it invariably comes back to haunt them. I have seen vendors (even my employer) become too greedy and have watched it come crashing down when they least wanted to do so. Of course, I am not intimating I am beyond reproach, for sadly, I fall prey to our less decent instincts instead of heading the better angels of our natures, so to speak. Most of the time, though, I think I treat people and customers with a decency and civility that is often lost these days, except for perhaps one month out of the year. I also say this in regard to the United States, not necessarily my experience abroad, at least abroad recently. Perhaps the kindness, generosity and hospitality that was accorded me in New Zealand was atypical, but from what I have heard from other travelers and visitors (and the residents of the islands in general), my experience was fairly typical. That being so, I see how far we have fallen and may yet have to go. I can only attempt to return that kindness and hospitality in what I do, and while I have done so in the past, I see clearly how much further I must travel in that regard. This is well, for we all need to see such ends in whatever path is laid before us. Now, as Yulecon approaches, I am cast in a more unfamiliar role, handling the registration and convention sales booth and not our own vendors room booth. Still, I hope I can continue to evoke that same spirit I try and cultivate at every show I work as a vendor. It can be a struggle, but a smile and a kind word can go further than you might imagine. I saw this so often it became commonplace, so much so that I was surprised when I did not see it at home. At the last convention (Izumicon), I was even surprised at people's reactions when I offered my own kind words to others (while still remaining capitalistic :) Really, I should not have. Deep down, I know. We want to be made to feel special, if but for a moment, or perhaps a season. I simply want others to feel special any time of the year. In general, we probably deserve it, regardless of our sins. Again, to lead with the holiday spirit, this is probably a time to forgive all those sins anyways... even if we may not the remaining eleven months of the year. I suppose it is a start.

C.

Company of Your Heart

Switching gears, I wrote this almost immediately after the previous poem, perhaps my subconscious recognizing I might still have a little of the romantic left... or what can pass for hope in my constant waking dreams. This is also a little different from a stylistic point of view, reverting to a more traditional... sonnet, one might even say, though I would digress. I was simply thinking, or in this case, writing aloud.

'Company of Your Heart'

I ask for nothing save the company of your heart,
Giving all I must in return.
I seek only we do not remain apart,
Discarding the burden of expectations and pride.

You reveal so much more than I know,
Reaching through an instant of time.
You bespeak wonder burning within the soul,
Aching in the shadows of furtive dreams.

I yearn for but the tenderness of your grace,
Enraptured amid such a passionate respite.
I seek the enduring comfort of your sweet face,
Ending finally the storms of my regrets.

I ask for nothing save the company of your heart...

C.

Memories of Distant Roads

I suppose it must be easy, considering my past, to try and read into what I write... hell, I do it. The following poem was sort of an exercise in writing, though I did feel a sense of sadness and regret as I let the words escape me. The subconscious can be a powerful motivator, and it often has more to say than I do at times. Often times, though, I still do not know what I am saying, only that I have to say it... or write it, as it were.

'Memories of Distant Roads'

Your heart...
Tho' I may never see
Such indelible beauty
Revealed in the fullness of your light.
I know...
What may one day be required
For the sake of memory
Adrift upon a darkening shore.
We see...
Eye to eye even in the
Harsh glare of today
Hope tempered by who we must be.
I understand...
Sorrow must eventually fade
For the sake of yearning
Cast upon the embers of love.
My heart...
One you might never reach
Across this gulf of moments
Lost in a waking dream.
We know... we knew.

C.

Some thoughts and other thoughts...

Still dog-tired, so do forgive any of my sleep-deprived errors:

Sometimes you need to get some of this down in case you miss it, and then morning comes and you completely forget what you intended to write. So, this is what I use my blog for, a reminder of what I am supposed to be writing and or fomenting in my sometimes enigmatic and oft times demented mind :) I do have a lot to say and to write, some of which has been written already and just needs to be transcribed to electronic format. Much of it still waits to be written, in one format or another, in one project or another, though I will continue to use my blog as a test-bed of a sort for what I will be doing in the future. The past two months have taught me a lot about myself and others, about self-reliance, charity, decency, love, sadness, warmth, tenderness, worry... and the lack thereof. Maybe even more... Of course, conceptually, I knew these things, but to see them put into practice in so brief a time was humbling and challenging all at once. I spent time alone in the wilderness contemplating the thoughts of the universe itself, and would then be laid low in the grace of a simple smile. Finally, you stop wondering why a person was placed into your life, no matter how brief a time and however strange the situation... and you accept it. You become more grateful than you thought possible (unless you happen to be a sick bastard, and those people exist, sadly) and that is well...

I am still formulating many of my ideas, thoughts, chapters, essays, etc... and every time I think about what I want to do all I can do is smile at how blessed I have been. Even when I felt at my worst, someone would tell me 'hey, it's ok... it'll all work out'. Always... and you know what... it has, most times in the most unexpected of ways (here is where I thank the State department of all groups :) And that too is well...

So, more to come, more to write and more to say... after the jet lag settles.

C.

Finally Home...

Well, I'm home, so to speak after a grueling, though interesting journey back to the US. I will update and expand as I can, but right now... I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for a week... :)

Take care and see ya soon,

C.

On the Way Back...

Just a quick update... finally headed back to the North Island, crossing tonight to Wellington, then a bus to Auckland and home on the 11th... a short, though long journey and some good adventuring... I will be writing much of it down once I can get to a computer I don't have to pay by the hour to use :) One nice perk of home...

C.

My Apologies...

I had been doing some writing but not really updating and therefore my apologies in this regard. Also, my Internet time has been limited and so I had to ignore blogging in favor of making sure I could get certain emails. Such is the way of things. Still, once I return home, I will do some updating and begin working on another writing project regarding my own travel experiences here in New Zealand and other roads I have traveled... whether forgiven or not (sorry, little joke regarding one of my poems :) In any event, I shall do more soon and try and add some of the pieces I have written in the past week or so as I can. Until then...

C.

Open Mic Night in Golden Bay

Well, thought I would have a quiet night waiting for the rain to clear before I moved on. Instead, I stumbled upon a pub that was having an open mic jam session, so with the help of some kind folks from the hostel, I did some readings from some of my newer works and from my second book. Thankfully, I had some background music to help out and make me feel a little less overwhelmed (it was actually a decent sized crowd for a very small town). In all, I think it turned out ok and helped a tough day end well. In any event, it had been a long time since I had done something like that, so... all was good.

C.

Upon Queenstown Hill

This particular poem was inspired by the starkness of the water and mountain views from atop Queenstown hill, about 2000 feet or so above the town... staggering really.

'Upon Queenstown Hill'

A singular instant of such a radiant dawn
Seeks to ease a tempestuous burden
Fraught by an unending, unyielding gulf
'Betwixt the realm of the heart and soul.

The majestic serenity of sweeping hills
Knows the fire kindling within
Held fast through this quiet struggle
Amid a glance from waters beyond icy blue.

Tomorrows fade upon a far green shore
Waiting as this world races the night
Dreams escape a hope of fragile memory
Under the breath of a forgotten lament.

C.