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Licking Off Light I was surprised to find that you were afraid of the dark.  You of all people should have nothing to fear in it.  But then again, I too was once aware of the eyes and teeth and hulking spines that could press into shadows.  I have heard their slitherings, I have heard the gnashings of their teeth.  I grew out of these things, and there was a day where I realized that they did not belong with me, like that day I found that I could touch my toes to the ground as I dangled from monkey bars.

You never did.

Every night at eight, when the sun was beginning to slide off the expanse of the sky, you would turn on that one lightbulb, sitting like a
Zen in the Art of Botany"Consider this tree. It is new-grown, younger than you; yet in
 another sense it is far older than I. What does this illustrate?"

      "Renewal?"

"Close."

      "Continuation?"

"Closer."

      ". . . I'm not sure."

"Perseverance."

      "How so, roshi?"

"Consider."

      ". . ."

"What is it about the tree that perseveres?"

      "It blooms every spring?"

"That would be renewal."

      "It was seeded, and in turn seeds the next generation?"

"That would be continuation."

      "It's composed of atoms, which are eternal?"

"Continuation again. Look deeper."

      ". . . Guide me, roshi."

"How does the tree respond to
The Trees Within UsAs the leaves touched the ground
tears fell from my eyes.
For I have seen what I've become,
the progress of what I am.

I am like a tree in spring
whose leaves brought shade to all.
And as I greet my dearest sunshine
I smiled at how I withstood the fall.

I am like a tree in summer,
basking under the mighty sun.
Celebrated life and its glory
by sharing life and making memories.

I am like a tree in autumn
whose leaves slowly withered.
Yet as my leaves kissed the soil,
a thousand friends I have garnered.

I am like a tree in winter,
blistered by the freezing cold.
But never did I give up hope
I know spring is my home.

Through t
An Islander's GuideThe Islander's Guide to Aviation

I bemuse the sun

                   trying to ascend

          to her height

                                (as if!)–

      the blue above

                              and the blue below

                 swap faces, exchange

                                           gravities.

                                    With wide eyes full

                                                    of African sun I

                           am admired; others dare me

                                      to prove myself. How

                              little they understand.

       See h
I don't need...I stare at the sea
(Unsympathetic, as always)
And suddenly remember
How to fly.
I cast off my wings
Your wings
And run through the sand
To the ocean.
My heart is lifting,
I can see past the horizon,
(Never look down)
My toes touch nothing
(You are finally gone)
I don’t need wings to fly.
The Tragic Cyclelife starts with a seed
and grows to become a tree...
---till one cuts it down.
The Dark People of Sao TomeThe dark people of Sao Tome with knotted muscles were told not to fly
By science, and a God that poked his head through the blue above.
There were dangers untold in the sunken underbellies of clouds
And none to wait with opened arms when they lost their hold on air.
They complied.
But things stirred, ever full and rich with truth
In the depths and canyons of their minds.
A weathered woman, old as rocks and water,
Would sometimes steal a moment or two to dream, to remember.
The passing days and months turned these moments into many hours.
One boy, young as sunrises, would place a foot in their air
And then the other, just to know th
TreeHe is a tree.  He burrows into my flesh: thin, white roots twisting around tendons and networking through nerves, drinking blood.  I can feel the grasping, greedy needle-tips pressing against my heart, puncturing holes.  My lungs are filled with frayed edges, rootlets that go delving into fibrous tissue – finding words and worship.  It makes me wheeze – a disease.  My throat is full, bursting with all the things I cannot say around him.  He kills me.

But at least he is living off me – needs me.

Before he was self-sufficient – a seed.

It is progress, of sorts.
DarknessSitting beneath trees,
Darkness prevails inside.
And so you seek light.
Holding- Contest EntryHolding something simple in our hearts, in our hands.
The leaves falling down as we try to understand.
And tears fall so simply, but the wind sweeps them away.
Misery grew with the rain that day.
Life runs out real quick, you grow up so fast.
Make each moment last.
You hold in your hands the innocence of days.
What is left can’t be swept away.
To this world we are slight.
Always at the mercy of the moon at night.
Existence is up to nature.
You can’t hold off demise til later.
Count the rings running round your face.
You’ve only so long til it’s too late.
Flying leap
Sea waves
a siren call
on summer days
Lessons for flying and divingMy best friend is a big fan of diving. Me, I'm more of a flying guy. The only difference is that when flying you're not supposed to plummet in the end. I can't say I ever understood the fear of heights. It's the depths that really get to me.

The last time my best friend went diving he forgot to come back. I'm still waiting. They tell me he's going to rise up some day. He better have, so that I can finally teach him to fly. There's just one trick to it: don't fall. That ain't no rocket science.
ProgressWe shuffle a few paces forward -  before coming to a halt again - along a rutted path crawling through a dried-out landscape towards the gates of the Arboretum that lies, so they say, somewhere in the distance. Around me I can hear a few of the Pilgrims muttering a quiet prayer, but mostly people are silent, huddled in their suits, conserving their strength and numbly waiting their turn.

I’m bored, tired, and irritable and I ache all over my body. Sweat puddles inside my helmet.

“Tell story! Tell it! Tell Jesus story!”

A little red and angry face peers up at me through a smeared and dusty faceplate. A little hand tugs at the
Fuujin, the Anemophiles
Captive island child,
metamorphosis, wings grown,
wind-borne lovemaking.
Shredded From Lifethe strand of life ripped
taken from what life was, now
by the soul, one tree
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:icondiamondie:

Leap of faith -
you can't be Icarus
with a safety net.
4 Comments
:icondiamondie:
This senryu participates in *fotoFRIDAY's Progress contest, in the haiku/senryu category. It has been inspired by picture #1, which is Flying out Sao Tome by `anthonyasael. I also have a drabble about the same picture in the works.
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:icontightwhitepants:
~tightwhitepants Sep 2, 2007
I like the concept, but I've always thought of Icarus' leap to be one of hubris rather than faith.
Daedalus might deserve the praise, or even Dumbo, but Icarus, especially after his father's warning, got what was coming to him.
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:icon365-leap:
~365-leap Aug 28, 2007
evocative. I might have to reference Icarus. prepared to be an influence?
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:iconjuansrx:
~juansrx Aug 28, 2007  Hobbyist General Artist
It makes a lot of sence.
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:iconravens-eye-studio:
=Ravens-Eye-Studio Aug 27, 2007  Professional Traditional Artist
But oh how terrifying it is to leap without one!
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