In passive flight

Isn't it funny how

Some of the most rewarding

Times in life alive

Are actually just memories

Or time spent

With your body in passive flight

Flying forward both in space and time

Sometimes perhaps

I am stuck

In places of neither body nor mind

And there, away from myself

I am most pleased to be

And ever searching to get back

To be free

Many partings

Though I know

You did not hear

When on the bed though near

I wish I knew

What my last words were

To you

My my loyal and true

Honest advocate

And mother

I love you, mom

Begin again

You live your life

For self or others

And then when

Such anothers appear

It's so easy to find

A new life to align with

In them

But as truly as I say

That you will not get back

Even a single day

So I speak the truth

In reminding you

That life is always

Just a new choice away

And then it begins again

And what was is when

And all now it hope

Begin again

Sick of self in quiet

Quality time is oh so nice

When I'm sick of myself

And tired of my own thoughts

But when I am not

And my thoughts are scattered

And unaligned

That is when I must off and walk

Not due to you at all

But simply due to the fullness of my own mind

Because a body hug will not solve an overthought

Whispers of a future past

There are times

When ages past

Whisper to me that I

Could change these futures

And be more than

Any human being else

Could outlast

And yet we are called

Not just to respond

Out of fragile heart wants

But instead to think more

But instead to act

A blessing

God has blessed me

With this wonderful place

Where I am know

Encouraged to grow

And given time to contemplate

Without either worry or pain

Without either fear or regret

This job transcends job

This is a place

I will most certainly

Never forget

(Or so I hope)

(So I suspect)

And yes?

Teaching as us

All those years

Of teaching taught me this

Just as my mom once told me

Education is great

And learning a joy

But to teach is to repeat

And in the repetition

To enjoy

Such a process of knowing

That you almost forget

To learn more

To stagnate less

And to grow once again

In that most curious and curiosity filled way

This

Yes, this

Asked and asking

Trusting this

In the comfort of others

Is sometimes not asking

But instead

Sometimes waiting instead

To be asked

And if this

THIS

Was just a littler bit easier

So it is

And I would wish

For myself to be

Horizon, a haiku

Dark hills sigh below

With distant suns final smile

To bed they both go

If thankyou cards were tankas

Sealed and sent away

Into tomorrow it goes

A well once sent

It's own way seems to know

Like on a string most intent

My thoughts are

When rest is less appealing

Then unbeing

And unbeing less appealing than ideal

And the pursuit of transforming

A mere space into that ideal

THAT is when

You will arrive at the place

Most intoxicating to me

It's not in body

But in minf

My obsession is to be found

Man of many

A one dimensional man

Is only as attractive

As the one dimension within which

He is seen

By family, or lover, or world alike

You should seek

No security in this

One dimensional, one singular, way

One existence of being, no

Instead

Pick a future in which

You can see yourself again

Strong and reinvented

And run into it

Headlong

The authors above

Place them in a row

Paint them in a scene

Above

Any yet none of

These many many penmen know

Each other of

One and not the same

No, not at all

For they never knew

The other most

Perhaps just one

Tomorrow and on

Carry me in to a new tomorrow
This place of past
In my mirror
Has lasted
Far too long
And in my own sights
Too much
For on I yearn
To move along
And forward
Into a new sounding
Tomorrows song
And solution the same
How for this I long

Is self fine

Is self fine

When all around

Are all about themselves

Too

I'd argue not

And that it takes more

And wastes

Far less time

When you care

To learn

And care for more

Than your own self interest

First

When you should be closer to

Last

In cheering on

Roast, a tanka

Dark as night this roast

Trickles down from filtered mount

And falls into this clear

Glass canister of bright hope 

That soon my eyes will be wide

Plan, breathe, live

Planning is nice

Breathing is good

Time is a friend

Or at least so it should

(Be)

And yet away isn't home

And home isn't free

And life is a clocks tic on the wall

To let

(Be)

There is noone but you

And yet everyone to see

In these moments of clairvoyance

Let tomorrow your today

(Be)

Where Self Is Aware

The main person

Who you truly need

To protect yourself from

Is you

Or so it is to me

And my most adamant self critiques

And inward workings

Of humanity known

This is true

Travel anew, a haiku

Memories are best

When left laying by the road

So travel anew

Passing and past

Fear not

Of passing glances

Into past inhabitants

Or at the palces we call houses

These did not, last

For as sure as wood

And stone and brick

Make structures of sorts

You should always know this

No home, in my past

Ever such did exist

Until we decided to build

And did

Like this, us

Saria