Treasure Hunt

I remember it. 

That feeling of being whole. Nothing needed to fulfill me besides me. No one needed to love me besides me. The ability to feel sadness and anger without the fear of pain. The feeling of joy as time ticked away transforming every moment into a new experience. Smelling December. Seeing the electric lines as I drove by. Hearing the rumbling sound of an airplane as it flew across the sky.

These memories are the road map to my beginning.

All that is gold

For Grandfathers

a poem by Rich Pauloo

in the forest

tangle

a circle of young trees

sprouts

from some

empty

origin

it is because

once

long ago

an old and

dying

tree

sensed his mortality

like a loving grandfather

and called

his children

to draw near

in a circle about him

to send shoots into the sky

to carry on the parade of Life

to exalt the wind and minerals

to expand

to inhale

the aroma

of the world

at his

last
gasp 

of air
did he pause
to think

how life
does stretch

such lengths

at death

to continue
breathing?

Mendocino, CA

Summer 2012
photo courtesy of Mark from: http://marks-talesfromthetrails.blogspot.com/

Subterranean

us: two trees apart

yet, looking much much deeper

our roots intertwine