Going Over There

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Going Over There

Miles and miles
of whispering trees
tell me of courage
to stand in the breeze
knowing the storm
will end our days
with a thousand sunsets
in a thousand ways.
I am weary
I am cold
I am far too old
but, I have travelled far
on this wooded path
without fear and
without a decent bath
I am hungry
I am disheveled
I am torn
but, I have loved
nature's raw abundance
and in her fury, I am reborn.
Miles and miles
of wind and rain
cleanses my spirit
and comforts my pain.
I am going over there
I am breathing mist
I am the mountain range
and I found love
in the crystal waters
soft green mosses
and purple vistas
too distant to make in a day
I am going over there
it's not my home
I have walked away
I am gone.

Tribal Continues

Dear Readers,

All, as you know, I announced a departure of sorts recently as I attend to family and self. I believed in Tribal as more than a story. It is for me, a magnum opus, the end of an era of subtle preaching of my vision of the future through the Dragon Tales, Revenant, other short stories – and now Tribal.

I decided to let my dearest Dragon Sister, Apple Rae, continue the story on her blog, after all, this story is about her and her future as she becomes the Empress and Matriarch of her Tribe in the North Philippine islands where rugged mountains and a verdant paradise has hosted her ancestors for longer than the ancient Greeks, before the Romans, before the Sumerians of ancient Mesopotamia.

We share common ancestors from Spain and also an unbelievable story of two friends, One my great great uncle and his friend on their business venture in the newly opened islands in the early 1800’s. They prospered and took local wives and raised a family until the Japanese came in the early 40’s and rooted out many of the western people and infrastructure. My family believed all was lost until a few years ago when Apple and I reconnected.

I have told her story and my family story as well as my own in poetry, art, and writing over the last seven years. A thick layer of fiction and a world created in the imagination allowed the subtle flow of my personal belief in the beauty of family over generations and the generational teaching of the children to grow in knowledge and self and to transform their experiential life into wisdom to guide their children, many yet unborn.

If you would like to follow Tribal to its conclusion in future chapters, please follow Apple Rae and enjoy, not only Tribal, but her gifted stories, poetry, and videos full of the gift of a better world built on a better person fully knowledgeable of self and our connections to each other across the globe.

Click here to go to Tribal and enjoy the experience.

All the best,


The Dragon Gate

Image Source: Pinterest

At the fourth Dragon Gate, I learned that to remain hidden from negative things, or to fly over my mental and physical boundaries, and leap into the true connection among people, I must first accept the birth place of all things – the cosmos.

It is in the mind one finds the way of life and their path within it. It is the cosmos that shows us the way, which is the patterns, energies, vibrations, and cycles of the natural elements combined in countless ways to create all things including life.

When one embraces the thought they are one and the same with nature and the elements of the cosmos, they are following their path and know the way to their destination. To do otherwise is to invite chaos into the collective consciousness where agony and ecstasy provide the teaching of pain.

– Hyperion Sturm.

The Alchemist’s Dreams

I dream of Alchemy,
a spell of sweet magic,
cast in a sinister hell.
Life a whisper of synergy
drifting on failure,
a mist of tears
mixed in darkness
emotions of smell;
Lilac and ginger,
agarwood too.
Fingertips drift on velvet feather;
she in a fetal rest
on the back of a flying crane.
We conjured an ocean
with sky colored seafoam,
and undulating waves - cobalt blue.
I wore my leaden gold of sin,
her pearls an angel’s chorus
captives on a delicate string.
We rode a dark following sea
with sails of gossamer mantis wings;
breakers of far flung ecstasy
pelted the flying bridge
and smeared it with tears of pain.
We conjured a noir song together
under crimson sheets of satin
with sweet moans a symphony of music
a melody of beautiful insane.
image Source: Pexel