Time Traveler Eyes

Eyes of a Time Traveler

Child, you still see through eyes
unobstructed by experiences
of failures and hopelessness
of people lost and love betrayed

Your eyes shall witness a future
that Time herself has yet to conjure
as divinity and humanity wage war
to protect the heights and depths of Life itself

A Time . . .

of countries sundered by evil despots
of inventions that unify global families

of weapons perfected for genocide
of medicines that promise immortality

of streams, glaciers, birds sacrificed by human greed
of Mother Earth embracing warriors who protect Her domain

of portending words of gloom spewed from costly pulpits
of whispers of faith and goodness by those pure of heart

of demons who worship banners of religion and nation
of saints who fight for justice, protection, righteousness

Child, allow me to join your sojourn to the future
for just a Time and a half a Time
to share with you my crumbs of crusty wisdom
to see visions of promise through your eyes

For grandson Roman.  Inspired by his mother’s (Megan) keen photographer eyes.

Shaded by bonsai

Shaded by bonsai (3)Shaded by bonsai

He watches me tend and prune

Eternal patience

When I was about four years old, I had an imaginary friend.  “Mr. Goto” lived in the back of Palolo Valley in Oahu, Hawaii.  He was an old Japanese man with a long white beard.  I used to talk to him a lot, which really freaked my mother out.  Meet Mr. Goto.

Ablutions

Ablutions

Every morning, a couple of hours after dawn

a wispy yellow butterfly

leaves her sanctuary of tall dry grass and discarded afterthoughts

to sit for a moment

on moist Pahala black sand

polished by the Pacific Ocean’s insistent caresses

and seasoned with salt as old as time.

She performs this daily ritual

just because.