I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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Hudson The Rascal Outcast

Hudson the rascal outcast, offering ashes of forlorn warriors.
The confusion marches to the garden, the Father’s bride found the gate.
Memory of the place above, beyond land to a golden bounty;
‘Midst beguiling tropical foliage, the Mother’s hand does wait.
Time jumping the steps of certainty, along such fierce grounds,
Alas, an aging mango grove, from the roof, I laugh.
The Brother playing among teen eyes, chasing desire in the hollows.
Not to upset the Dionysian ritual, I proceed with Poseidon’s staff.
Past blazing rays of sunlight, the first of the New Dawn,
I cross the bridge, uncertain, in search of the hole where spirits hide.
In the words of the teacher, (don’t look down), though I take comfort,
Still I hear the water crashing, I feel the breath of the tide.
In the warm caress of tranquility, my back to the horizon,
Chin up, eyes focused, every step I take is true.
The sun that burnt the hole in my back is now falling from the sky
To be replaced first by twilight, then, in dreams, sweet visions of you.
The conquered bridge, passed, past, will return only to haunt me
The challenges I will face are but the tests of humanity.
Sometimes the answer is in the question, still we draw false conclusions
Senses fail, drifting to madness, the price of our fragility.
As night descends over the clearing the moon is on the prowl;
His eyes like spotlights, blinding, piercing the tree’s below.
The enemy of the air, I must avoid his gaze.
Am I crazy? You don’t understand. I will show you the victims. You will know.
I drift into monstrous dreams, dreams too real to be true.
Standing on a desolate highway at a crossroads, alone.
Four arrows point the way, these my only guides.
On the signposts only numbers, the destinations are unknown.
Mischievously, the rain clouds appear, nervously beginning their descent.
There is little time to waste, I give the numbers the eye.
Memories of my youth are raging, flooding my head. Lessons.
I must concentrate on the signs, while the storm brews in the sky.
I feel a touch on my shoulder, fingers arched around the bone
Uneasy, I turn my head, my eyes await contact.
The touch was soft, light like that of an angel
Expecting grace, only disappointment. I didn’t know how to react.
Did my eyes deceive me, was there anybody there?
Where I expected a face I saw only bare infinity.
I thought it a hallucination. I laid blame on the sun
He reacted with vengeful rage, erupting in the vicinity.
Seasons converge into bliss anew, natures acceptance comes through
Welcoming chances imitate understanding, energy, opportunity, life’s appreciation.
Through varied perspectives, focus, reflections forced beyond sense
There, surge lessons of change, now into life-giving imagination.
Waterlilies, a soft, beautiful creation, quiet desire from love’s depth
Guidance can be found in calling. Where strife blossomed, clarity
As waters once carried their bounty, just verdant laughter flows
Choices are art and life. Looking into time’s current, only scarcity.