Coyote's Den

Sense of Self

There is a hole that
is shaped like me and I am
that which fills that hole.

When I act it is
According to my nature
to act is to learn.

Breaking Point

I shall not break
Until I am overcome
Then I shall break

In Dreaming

Of all dark fate
and twisted dream
that ever I were lost to thee
Speak not of tempting honest fate
When oldest road brings you to me.

To give my sorrow's
gnawing end
I shall give all my dreams to thee
That in them you may to me wend.
When sleeping winds break dreamless seas.

Go as you must
with love and pain,
Still though in shadows you do walk
my shadow also walks with thee
When sleeping winds move we shall talk.

And there my time
with thee shall be,
Consoled in sleepless dreaming space,
I shall in days hot waking breathe,
The memory of your embrace.

Keeping Moving

I've got a paddle
without a boat
so I must swim.

I've got wings
but no feathers
so I must walk.

I've got shoes
but there's no road
so I must fly.

Parts of Flame

We all are parts of flame.
Some burn
some bright, some hot.
Some dim and glowing coals.
Some tinder
some ash.

Some of us are air
Some wood
or grass
or things I do not know.

Some are fires, great or small.
Some water, cooling,
Sand, limiting.
Earth, restraining, cradling.

If I pray, it is this:
I have seen that often,
one man or woman's light will burn
and others feed it, or bask in their glow.
And that is only one fire
for many people.
And mostly it is cold.

I pray and wish,
as I look at the fire in myself
incomplete,
not a blaze in it's own right,

For others to add to my flame.
And others to whom I may add mine.
For fuel and air and knowledge.

Whether great or small, we all have
that which we can lend another.

I pray for other fires.
For mine is not a fire to light the world.
I pray for the keeper of the stones,
the guy with the matches.
the gal with sparks,
The watcher, the raker.
The tinder, the kindling, the ash.
Yes, even the ash.

I pray for the boy scout, and the furnace builder.
The rake and handle.
The axe, the tree, the seed,
The stones that hold the blaze and keep it from the brush.
The bodies that are warmed,
and those who build, and keep, and bank the fire.

I pray for them all
That I may be part of a greater blaze,
Adding my own heat.
My own heart.
To other's hearts, their minds.

Till it is not my blaze, which would be small,
and the fire of one incomplete and tarnished soul,
but a star that shines beyond me,
and where I lack heat or fuel, or knowledge of building fires,
others are there, burning, keeping, putting out.

That together, we may kindle
a flame beyond ourselves,
and mayhap,
mayhap,
send candles out into the night.

I Wait

I Wait

Cold doesn't matter
nor loneliness.

Ears turned up, I wait.

Don't mistake my demeanor
for unfriendliness, or hate

I'm listening over my heartbeat.

I don't know how long it's been...
I'm gray with dust on my face.
where once I was painted like wheat

or sun
when my soul was young

A stretch of the limbs, as I think I'm 'bout done.
I long for a taste
of what I've forgotten
and the turning seems long.

I'm not afraid of much,
but I'm afraid of forever.

I've borne every type of restlessness,
and itch.

I wait, for I know that my

waiting
soon
will be
done

I'm not as afraid of the unknown
as I fear a grey forever.

Sacrifice of Iron

Everyone has
wants and needs.
Everybody
has desire.
To know the difference,
that is wisdom,
to face it is
the sacrifice
of iron.

Everybody
lives a lie, but
sometimes they
look up and see.
To know the lie for
what it is,
to face the music
pay the piper is
the sacrifice of iron.

All you know,
All you feel,
What's inside,
is only real.
Are you empty?
Are you home?
Can you hear me in your bones?
What's the difference,
if you're sleeping?
Hollow people,
empty weeping.

When you wake up,
face the morning,
never give up,
greet the dawn,
and the midnight
with your spirit,
that's the greatest
sacrifice of iron.