Out of the Darkness; Into the LIGHT

There is
a rendering of all
that I have seen;

of all that I have
handled in
this life of
tragic glory and
whispered echoes;

a rendering of
small and motionless
things that will bespeak
volumes of that which
lies just beyond their

suchness and reason
for being.

Call it motive;
call it a furtive
glance into the meaning
behind meaning.

The stuff that lies
stuck to the bottom of
the bag I drag
behind me has made
a place of shadow-play
in my soul, an herb
garden with loamy soil
and dank aroma.

The moments I could
steal away into the
woods, the slivers
of life spent loafing
on a dock or on
a rock of sleepy repose
in the sun of life -

water, just below or
at my helm.

The times I had to be
the grand conquistador -
pushing forward into places
not yet known
or mapped for man;

the ensconced trapper idling
by the line he had
come to walk and
hold as rythmic pumping
of the blood;

or
wilderness-god blazing
through a lushness unseen by
men who thought they
knew life's purpose

and - still more -
could use a pen to craft
its telling.

I sing the song
of the explorer-biographies
I consumed in childhood.

This is the one
I held so close
in my days of youth;

the one I believed
to be writing in
the layered dimensions
of life.

This one -

the child adventurer
is not only in there -

he rules the roost.

Bring him out
of the darkness and
into the LIGHT.