Balance

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Balance is the

key to life,

it's a dance

that we all do.

We strive to find

that balance point,

while seeking

out the truth.

Having too much

of anything

throws our

lives off kilter.

Good and evil

love and pain,

like walking

on a wire.

Love and family

work and play,

juggling them

all at once.

The balancing act

of yin and yang,

searching for

some answers.

Sometimes we

just need to

take a break,

get out and

enjoy nature.

Remembering we

are part of

Mother Earth,

the wisdom

of the ages.

The answers

we are seeking

are whispered

in the wind.

Just listen with

an open heart,

and feel the

peace within.

When your soul

and nature

are as one,

the balance

has begun.

This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

A Broken Dream

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Your soul drips

from the pen,

to the poem that

you are writing.

Musing about a

broken dream,

all because you

let an angel

clip your wings.

You can still

see her eyes,

lit by the fire,

from the torch

that you are burning.

Many years

brought many tears,

and many more will

soon be arriving.

Gone are the days

when love poured

like the rain.

Now there stands

a man that is only

drenched in pain.

Time to come

back to reality,

broken one,

for your war

now it is over.

Lay down your

broken heart,

not another  bad

word spoken.

Come tell of all

you've been through,

and ease the

soul you're no

longer killing.

Rest your weary heart,

the last teardrop

must be shed.

Time won't hurry back,

time won't stall.

Time to forget the past,

brush the cobwebs

from your wall.

For you survived

to write a poem,

about a broken dream,

all because you

let an angel,

 clip your wings

This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

The Dance

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Talking about the ways

of an ever restless spirit.

Dancing with inspiration

is the only way that will tame it.

It starts at the source,

a course that comes from within.

 Words falling from the heart,

to the valley of the pen.

It pours to the people,

the ones that want to hear.

Come dance with the poet,

 for the time is coming near.

 It's a lyrical explosion,

passing on its seeds,

to all nationalities,

colors, and creeds.

Now it comes easy,

just a matter of releasing.

Taking a jump from

the ship of dignity,

 into the sea of eternity.

It's a dance that we do,

 to the movement of the stars.

Traveling miles without

 the use of cars.

Yet, can we dance

 to the flames of a fire,

 oh, can our voices

rise higher and higher?

Out of time, out of mind,

 only in the now,

don't bother asking why,

because we're going

to show you how.

What i'm talking about

is not some luxury vacation,

just a lesson in the

one and only, positive vibration.

Together we journey

through a higher space,

subsequently sending

peace to our race.

The magic of dancing,

shining in the night,

right before our eyes,

and then flashing out of sight.

What's that you say,

can you explain it a little more?

Well, life is the game,

and the journey is the board.

Breath is our peace,

and the lion is our roar.

It's the absence of judgment,

but not the lack of choice,

talking about another way

to utilize our voice.

The power of the people,

the ones that speak as one,

the movement of the masses,

are going to out power any gun.

Love is our sword,

and we strike it all around,

to anybody open to this

higher vibrational ground.

We move as a tribe,

as we dance in the field,

singing hallelujah to

that ever sacred seal,

that binds us together

to make a solid chain.

You and me, him and her,

we're all just the same.

Indian Summer

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Indian Summer is

such a grand time.

These are the days when

vacationers come back,

a very few lucky

ones start out anew.

Even a bird or

two lingers on,

to take a backward

look at what

they've done with Summer.

I wonder how

many folks stop

to remember the grand

vows we made

in the Spring.

Of all the industrious

things we planned to do,

and all the place

we planned to go.

But when the heat

of Summer came,

we yawned, stretched

and just relaxed,

to wait until

the heat ended,

dreaming of the many

things we'd do in the

glorious Indian Summer.

But now that it's here,

we have new fears,

wondering what we are

going to do this Winter.

Indian Summer is

filled with blissful days,

even the skies put

on their old robes,

and dance to

the old refrain,

trying to make believe

it's June again.

All the glorious

scents of Summer,

with the warm, soft rains,

but it's all a fraud

that does not cheat

the birds and bees,

they know the warm

season is almost done.

Indian Summer's plausibility

induces human's frail belief

that Summer still lingers on.

But, the bursting seed pods,

their silent witness bear,

that the chilling frost of

Autumn will soon be here.

Even the restless breezes

do disturb the

first timid leaves,

that dance shyly earthward,

and will soon be

rampant over the land,

giving definite proof that

Winter is close at hand.

This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.