Set My Spirit Free
To the point when the cool crisp autumn mountain air meets the warmer mountain lakes.
You will find my near lifeless body perched up against a mighty oak.
As the cool air meets the warm water, Fog will rise and there you see my spirt riding the fog like the surfer rides the pipe!
Here at this moment, I have for a time set my spirt free, to roam, to explore
And stretch its wings.
With the bounds of his earthly confines broken for a time, he is a glow with his own
Radiant light.
As he rides the fog down the lake, and up and to the top of mountain, I shout what do you see?
After a slight pause he smiles and says your future is his reply.
What does it look like I asked, like the morning sun he replied with a broad grin!
As the fog evaporates from the warmth of the rising sun, my spirt returns to my lifeless body.
Returning as a new me, both refreshed, invigorated and full of life!
Both understanding our own roll in life it each depended on the other
The Perfect Morning
The cold crisp night mountain air settles with heavy weight in the fall,
As it pushes its way down towards Fontana lake.
The warmer lake water gives way to the mountain mist or blue smoke that gives the mountains its name.
The North blowing wind pulls the fog up and over these great mountains, like a giant bed cover
Being pulled up and over the bed.
Here perched on the highest point, watching the drama unfold gently as the night sky
Loosens its grip and gives way to the morning sun.
The gentle breeze brings the sweet sent of the Balsam Fir past my noise.
Like the scent of the lovely lady this mountain is.
The silence is as sweet as the sent of the firs, not a bird, a car door, even a motor.
One could get lost in this solitude, second thought I just might.
A silence so intense one can hear the beat of one's own heart.
It is hear I am most at peace, my soul at rest.
Sitting for hours in the quiet, a clear mind, just absorbing all that surrounds me like a dried sponge emerged in water.
This may not be heaven, but I can't imagine a more perfect place to spend eternity.
The sun rising now, with its orange and magenta, casting the blue hues that are the signature
Of this Park.
Beautiful places don’t last , and when one finds one chances are some else has been there or will be soon. So will this be filled with the clicks of cameras, chatter of low voices and heavy breathing from the wal
For the cries of the children
It’s the voices of the children the ones no longer here,
It’s the cries of those children I hear all day so clear.
They have stolen our children, they took our kids
It’s those children I hear tonight.
The nameless face we see filled with pain and with fright.
They cry out to me wanting to be freed,
It’s the fear in the children my soul senses, and trembles with fright.
The things they have done the act they do of this I will not speak.
But rest assured of this be clear justice they cannot escape.
It’s the pain of the loved ones, the ones they left behind
The moms the dads the grandparents
all of them filled with tears.
The world was mostly silent for the masses do not know,
The Governments kept it quiet cause they were dirty as well.
But times they are a changing and things will be made clear
The names they will shock you of
The ones that hurt our kids.
The cries of our children and
The tears have been felt, God has heard the cries
And justice soon be dealt.
And the cries of our children
Are silenced with peacefulness and rest.
dedicated to the victims of Human Trafficking
Look For Me
If by chance you wish to find me
Look for me where the stars touch the sea.
I'll be Listening to the rhythm of the crashing waves
As it sings a love song to the nights sky and the stars fall like tears.
Look for me where the Balsam Fir grows
And the wind whispers in her soft voice to the mountain.
I’ll be listening to a conversation that has last a millennia.
watching the clear night sky
Totally immersed in the presence of the Creator.
Look for me where the old growth Tulips standing
Guard, and the stream babbles endlessly like a tireless child.
I’ll be next to that patch of Trillium
On the rock that resembles a pew.
Look for me in the meadow laying down among the tall wild grasses
Listening to the tiny among us while looking at the shapes in the clouds.
Pondering the many thought that dance in my mind.
But don’t wait too long, life must be lived!
These things nor I will be here long, for the mind, the heart and the soul
Must be set free
Changes of Season
I look in awe and wonder, as the seasons change.
The simplicity of it all, for I can't remember no two seasons ever changing
On the same date, or the same way. I stop for a moment and remember now just how similar
Our own seasons are to the natural words. Are two Decembers ever the same, are two birthdays
Ever celebrated exactly in the same manor. And I must admit, I must pause and contemplate just
Why this is. Some may say time, some climate, but my heart leads me deeper.
Yes these are part of it but not the whole equation. The words growth and change comes flowing into my spirit.
See as the forest grows, it slowly changes its surroundings, giving shelter, adding nutrition to the forest floor, providing food for those that call it home. This takes time, and a variety of conditions.
And the changes in one thing, impact so many more. See how true that is in our own lives, we might not ever see the changes or the impact we have on those around us but is always present.
I love to imagine it like this, God the creator of heaven and earth. Created the greatest work of art ever Imagined, one that changes over time, no two days does it ever look the same. Always beautiful and ever changing in a way that only he could.
Emmett Speelman