the recurring dream….Tanka

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through the thinnest sky
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clouds slip from my fingers as
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i tumble upwards.
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calm undulating waters,
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beckon my return to days
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i once recognized.
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falling… far away from the
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life i’d once known…
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my past… like boats float along
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an infinite horizon.
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tumbling… upwards…
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angelic music washes
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clean my memories,
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sharing innocence with stars…
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finally…flying… free again.
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Faith interwoven….Tanka/Haiku

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evergreen boughs weigh
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heavy with hungry sparrows
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awaiting daybreak.
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their hopeful chirping,
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like sweet memories waken
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a sleeping landscape.
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our nature entwined
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in Faith that a warming Sun
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will rise once again.
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December’s silent shroud

a song, video and words to explain my silence in December.
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the too familiar turns and bends…
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and statue still are the trees standing sentry tall
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astride this white and weary Winter road,
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my incessant journey of so many dreary and crippling seasons
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recalling the somber memories etched decades deep
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in gnarled bark and devoted wood.
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how the infinite canopy arches in graceful bows,
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laden branches kneel in gratitude to the peaceful sleep of snow.
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i follow the trailing in frail voices of family i’ve lost,
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of those i long to remember
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swirling in the sliver of pause between
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this world and another.
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there is no hesitation in
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passing through the Gate of Melancholia,
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i wrap my solitude close in December’s silent shroud.
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disowning my voice in sequestered quiet honoring memories now,
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turning ever inward bowing in divine gratitude to those who
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found me alone along this snowy road.
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in pristine powder

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how eerily silent
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this low and permanent sky
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weighed heavily in veils of gray,
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that sunrise of so forsaken a faded light
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announces morning from night.
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falls and falls and falls
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this relentless snow,
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pillowing high on window sills
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and muting each fresh sound it buries.
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tentative voices die slow in drifts,
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and this morning’s rush is
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suspended in our collective complaint.
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such swift surrender of steely urban arrogance,
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as my skyscraper city is helplessly
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brought to its knees.
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yet the under world still spins
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and wanders in merciless carousels
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of cruel days after hungry nights,
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the aimless trails of pre dawn paw prints
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pattern the pristine powder.
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