East of the endless retail, and
the keeping it weird of Portland,
lies a land forgotten.
Far from the fir & fruit trees,
the nation imagines,
is another Oregon.
Beneath the infinite sky,
the sage grows wild, and
wheat, wind, & warmheartedness sustain.
In the arid landscape,
the rare rain & tree are treasures,
as beloved as family and history.
The tiny grocery, the pub,
& soda fountain are the venue
for a shadow vibrancy unseen by passersby.
Beyond that neighborliness,
using only my feet and legs to carry,
I step along a rocky path once walked by rancher.
Deep in the canyon,
beneath the hot spring sun,
my ears are baptized with silence.
Beside the deep blue river,
and beneath the azure dome,
my thoughts come easily.
Purifying sage reaches my nostrils,
the Spirit descends,
and divine love & clarity permeate palpably.
The rocks beneath & sky above are me.
My toes hug the rocky soil,
and my spirit soars among fluffy clouds.
I am one. We are One.
Being, Wandering 