Wednesday, September 25, 2024
Open Your Soul to the Stars
this one is a song lyric & my friend R.I. is working on the music--I hope!
Verses
In the space between the beats
of music, time, and heart,
lives a mystifying silence –
source of life, muse of art.
In the space between the stars
float expansive lakes of time.
In the dreams encasing dreams
stairways rise in mists of mind.
Chorus
Open your soul to the stars
dancing with creation.
Floating in that space,
ride on elation.
Open your soul to the stars—
imagination.
Sense the source of love
And adoration.
Verses
In your time within all time
and the life that moments make,
you will find your destiny
in leaps of faith you take.
In emptiness there is a cup
That holds infinity.
Time and beats and rhythm
pour from divinity.
repeat Chorus
Bridge:
Our time’s a space to explore.
Love from the universe is ours.
Find what your time here’s for.
Open your soul
Yeah, open your soul
to the stars.
repeat Chorus
hans ostrom
copyright 2024
The Dig
An archaeology student, sweating,
softly brushes soil off a longburied shard of pottery.
Seeming to look on:
massive black boulders,
covered with simple, profound
red petroglyphs. Truly
observing: all the unseen
spirits of the canyon.
Their presence makes
the student stop to wonder why
her scalp tingles electrically.
hans ostrom 2024
Tuesday, September 24, 2024
Monday, September 23, 2024
Sunday, September 22, 2024
Thursday, September 19, 2024
Wednesday, September 18, 2024
The Grand Canyon
The Grand Canyon: an epic poem
Time has been scribbling for billionsof years, by our counting, which bores Time.
People from all over the globe
stand at the edge, shed nationality,
and--to a person--speak in hushed
tones, if they speak at all. Cubby
squirrels run around like ushers.
Something mystical rises
with warm air, which crows and hawks
and eagles ride casually. Time itself
is the hero of its poem, carving
granite, sandstone, quartz, limestone,
shale--each layer a chapter unspooling
in reds, roses, purples, browns, blues,
tans, and grays above the serpentine
river channel. Towers and turrets of
sandstone and limestone decorate
the rim. A single tree might spring
from a cup of soil on one of these
spires. The mind inquires, but the canyon
simply is and won't discuss geology.
Time promised the essence of earth--
stone--an epic full of love,
and Time keeps writing it,
as we gawk down and across, breathe
temporary air, take useless photographs.
hans ostrom 2024
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