River Drifting

Heat from the flame forges a fierce stare.

Beware of that gorge, when you pierce another's eyes.

No lies contain enough saturation to wash away the sickness.

Be real and slow in a thick way, with the heavy night of translucent

shimmering breathing on your neck.

Every morning another head upon your shoulders.

Every night another wreath on the pillow.

Every hour another seam lining the walls between dreams,

carefully thought out flayed through and separated again.

Vanished like the fog when the wind washes down the valley.

On the back of the spinning rivers, always going back again.

I know.

Who I am. Who all that I have been and have become now.

Will be becoming in this moment.

So loud when it dances now, it shakes the roots of all the trees.

Tread lightly in the shadows and the warrior's pace knows your way.

And will rest with you there.

Be light upon your own heart most of all, be like a waterfall, only then will

you know her.

All crashing below is free again. Be the flow. It is okay to let all go and drift again.

September 18th, 10:46 p.m.

 -Ed Tajchman

Wandering Hills of the Heart

Fulfilled and content in a dream with living creatures.

Roaming the wandering hills on an endless series of
unknown pathways through darkness with no sight of light.

Going forward through them because you need something new.

When the face gives away how broken you are despite
projecting the most imagined happiness.

It is because of the cold, because of the struggle to free the mind.

The aching to satisfy the heart with only what you have inside,
and what you can find hidden in the night sky when  you think
no one else is looking.

When the blisters on the toes burst,

When everything breaks again and you curse,

just when you think it can't get worse.

It is then you realize the beauty, the magic,

then endless whispering hills calling you forward,

calling you out of your den, into the eternal land

of the dreaming mind and the giving heart of Gaia.

Home is not a place to go back to but a state of the heart found in travel.

-Ed Tajchman

Slow Down and Talk Loud

Slowing it down. Everything around.

Faster then You think you talk,
even forgotten the way to walk.

Paper hearts hold no keys to contentment.

Vapors dart, lost into the breeze.

How to know when and if to flow,
is no easy task for a grand deceiver;

Ultimate receiver, unending pure of heart
believer.

-Ed Tajchman

Restless Human Animal

I never want to go back home anymore.

The feeling of belonging somewhere

falls into the sky. The deepest blue of

midnight's hour interrupted by golden light behind moons.

Every place I am now I live to be there.

So cracked and broken it's beautiful, okay to stare.

The wind changed suddenly and I was ready.

To take off, always had been half sprung like a cat.

Pacing encasing every walking hour I want to be free.

The void inside the heart brings me closer to where

I see the reflection of eyes unseen.

Always ready to be heard, everyone with a pure singing heart.

Projecting forward we will meet and create a new start.

-Ed Tajchman

As Summer Closes A Wish Remembered

Why does it matter anyway? revolving again in any ends.
In all the ways it could or would ever be it is.
I will never receive love in the way I think I need to.
Only in the ways that grace becomes me does it expand.

Resounding in joy's unspoken shadow, the footsteps fall always unheard.
In every grand hallway a smile of how it went down in the summer, shines across my face.
Unlaced shoes, unconstrained hues, no more blues infused in every grind of the teeth, I know
how to
breathe
now.

It shone full and brighter then any I had seen. A wish made on 7 generations in a place I had never been again. The landscape rolled like a bowl in a midnight blue, under golden glow of the moon.
The one sought since entering this strange place shines deepest in the heart that knows truth and faith both.
Seen in every waking memory.
Calls forward the effortless pulling through causeways reaching home.
I give her gratitude.

-Ed Tajchman

Implications of Sunlight on a Shoot

The way back in is elusive some if not all the time.

When you walk in and out one does not think upon the implications of scarcity.

implications of time being elusive when trying to unlock the Earthen spirit.

Space is expanding everywhere floating in it we all are.

Avalon can be found in the subtleties of a flowers petals.

A not so ordinary exchange on an ordinary afternoon.

A mind sits down for tea, hears the thunder and finds it's heart again.


Illusion of Numinous Fear

Trying to breath. When the fear sets in it is like being caught in the claws of a mighty golden eagle.
How rare though to think upon fearing the thing that keeps one alive. Terrible to be caught in it's clutches, . . .
. . . for so long only to realize they are formed in one's own mind. Spaces between dreams, between lives, between incarnations, between planets. Spaces between notes are the same as between the past and future.
Twitching eyelid relentless. Forget to mention the moment's when one mind echoes so far alone it haunts the spaces in between his vessels.