Best read on desktop and listened to with headphones.

Sometimes, in order to go forward,
you must journey back awhile
to that place where you first lost yourself —

that place behind the mountains
where you found handfuls of flint and shells
left by others long ago
to remind you of The Long Body;

the one we all have
that stretches free-and-light
across all man-made demarcations.

Sometimes, in order to go forward,
you must journey back awhile
to that time outside of time
where you first found yourself —

that place in the desert
where you found painted shards,
- morning ochre and sunset blue -
left as offerings by others
to remind you of The Long View.

Like a veil falling from a jilted bride,
white buffalo clouds rolled in tonight.

Fire hissed all the way down past The Thunderbird’s roost.

Until now,
this Scribe of Invisible Movement
did not fully comprehend
the Language of the In-Between.

Tonight, however, they all spoke-up
and they said the same thing:

Everything opposite is mirrored within.
Nothing truly longed for goes away.
No dream, no path, that once truly sustained life ever passes away.

At any moment, in any place,
you too can be First Human Waking.
Real love is boundless.
Real truth can never be suppressed.
Real freedom is a tree no blade or poison can defeat.
Real elegance liberates.
False elegance enslaves.
Whole worlds can be freed or upturned
with a simple glance,…or a single phrase.



(c) 2019 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com

sound: Nightshade / SoMa / Steve Roach + Robert Rich

image: Jean Wimmerlin

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