It is the blue sky

Calm as graves

That impresses peace

You wander among the stones

And stare at a large white motionless

Cloud

The nervous twitching of the birds

Heads cocking and bobbing

Eyes scanning

Feathers ruffling

With beaks darting to inspect and clean

You throw food and they fly away 

Only to return with great caution

To get their free meal—

Such anxiety and suspicion is

Almost human 

You thrust a spear into time

But like water time absorbs the thrust

The moment of now becomes past

In the river of history

Everything enters but nothing comes out

Gliding to an obscure ocean

Where only memory can prevail

You walk the hills

Your steps heading

To the high mountains

The country of snow

Where eagles glide overhead

And ice clings to the trees

Where is the red bird?

Your astonishment, your joy?

You hear its song

But it’s hidden in the treetops

Shielded by clouds—

You wait the long day

For a glimpse

But are kept waiting in hope

A thin house in the distance

In mist and pale sunlight

Birds fly over

Dry, dusty grass

As you fall 

Awaking from a dream

The voice comes in the middle of the night

A voice without sound or words

Instructing you as you bolt from sleep

From a disturbing forgettable dream

That there is an end beyond the days

Of toys and sex and youthful longing

The wordless recognition

That the film you are in is not yours

And the director will call the shots

Until the film has run its course