In dreams, the Sandman came.
In late May to Early June.
Bringing meanings and riddles
And secrets in songs, and broken visions
To guide the Traveler To and
Through a summer that seemed to
Have no beginning…and no end.
Peers and voices of the world bring
Constant Fog and distraction, only
The faithful find reason…and only the
Faithful find peace. Faith Found in
Determination for the final goal.
Silence is a miracle! Noise is
Endless in days they call the
Turbulent end…the end of old ways.
And Nature is constantly wild,
Reminding all how it is untamed…
The rain comes and the waters
Flow…as an echo to nature’s rage
Of impatience…The louder the noise
The more its fury will grow,
Unstoppable. Few will see the way
Through it, while most will simply
Carry on the noise.
Wind and Water, the signs of air.
No treaty will fill the hearts of men,
No compass will guide women.
And nothing will make sense…
Only to those campaigning for silence.
No loud voice will be forgotten by
Nature…bringing cold retribution,
by snow on days set in summer
That never knew it…a price for what
They should have always paid attention to.
It’s simply natures time…unstoppable.
Why why why…there’s simply too much noise.
The answers haven’t changed, they just
Didn’t want to hear it…
Nature simply allots the time for things
To grow and yield its bountiful crop…
As the ancients knew…waiting for something
New, a miracle in small form, no one sees…
And the noise will condemn that, of course…
The Great Empires of days of old
And Secret Sects, never ended, they
Just retreated and hid behind masks to wait…
Set in motion long ago…
Clocks in crop circles…voices in the wind…
Changing seasons mirror the circles…
Guided by Stars…and Visiting Watchers
And Predators…Waiting, big plans.
But the Earth itself, alive, a Mother Bear
Waits too…Each Solstice out of tune,
The clock will reset soon…
The young, the old, will not adapt…maybe a few,
Only those in the middle…30, 40, 50…
Will lead on…Stars will guide them.
The loud noise of rage, thunders reply…
Silence…Or the waters will wash
It away…Because the noise here
Resounds out there…And they have
Their own problems. Who the hell needs that.
Retreat from noise, chase a dream…
She needs silence…no debate on that one.
And when at last, night falls
And the crickets sound, and the
Night bird sings…Nature is at peace,
And there’s time again.
Music fills the Twilight…
Chase a dream Quietly June Traveler
Those Thunders are not far away.