From the Heart

I hear the footsteps, tapping on the spacious floor of eternity.
The shadow of convention is approaching,
Claiming that the way has been paved.

How can we understand our place here,
The context of our times,
Without the gnarled wisdom of our grandfathers.
Their fox tooth wisdom,
Undeniably precise,
Somewhere between night and day
Between predator and prey

How can we expect to teach our children,
When we have not learned to respect one another?
Respect that follows like a river,
Whose damn is the void of understanding,
A rift in the great conversation
Between all things.

How can we reclaim our ability to see beyond,
"People", "Place", and "Thing"
When our own conditioning demands it?
Could we, as a people, see,
That the value of things lies in connection?

Can we learn to see that the river we damned,
Has drowned a people wanting only to live as they're ancestors had,
With respect, reverence and care for this great web?

I pray, that some inspiration finds me, something of the realm of truth.
I only crave to hear that undeniable feeling of truth, as it reverberates through my skull,
Crashes through my spinal fluids,
Like a pacific crest.

I pray that seals will continue to ride in these waves,
Hunting for fish...
That whales and sharks will find them, devour them, destroy their lives.
Because death is real.
It happens to every one of us,
and its time we acknowledge it.

There is no ultimate value in our lives alone.
These bones will decay
This heart will one day quite
and become that from which it came. 

And what, I say, will this heart have done
When that day should come?
Whatsoever it may be,
makes all of the difference.

I hear the footsteps, tapping on the spacious floor of eternity.
The shadow of convention is approaching,
Claiming that the way has been paved...
Its cement is our complacency,
Mixed with the water of attachment.