Lines In The Sky Poem by Smoky Hoss

Laying on my back in a wild wooded area
Late November, amid an early dusk,
A few clouds chase the sun
Into the West.
Looking upward and around
Strange and mingled forms do I see,
Blending with and deviding apart
Each and every dark coursed tree.
All is so still and serene
With not even a splinter of sound;
Though senses tell
Something very real is residing
Upon this ephemeral scene...
A much deeper meaning
Simply awaiting to be found.
Beauty and mystery a mix
An inspired, almost eerie sight
One seldom seen, less often noticed,
And only by those who so search
On the very edge of a cold winter night.
Like black boney arms and fingers
Reaching down from the sky
Those destitute illusions
That both live and die!
Coming down with enigmatic riddles to speak
The kind seldom dared by souls to seek.
In them the flames of heaven and hell
Burn so close to each other
Almost as if to show
Once upon a time all were natural brothers.
Light and shadow in this world coinside
And coexist,
Both contemplation and action
Are means of grace that none should resist.

Life, like lines aglow in an ever darkening sky,
Like the free wind beginning to fly,
Stands continuously at the very edge,
A tenebrous silhouette drawn by light
Aching to break the tight grip of night.......
For even in the dark death of winter
The fragile branch still holds the living bud of eternal spring,
Only awaiting the all new life
That the returning sun -someday- shall bring.


'When you are close to nature you can listen to the voice of God. ' - Hermann Hesse