a means to an end

who did raise thee so
among silvery unheard
whispers of redwood
righteous and ever green

careless cracking stone
were you at your inception
shredding aging bark
cumbersome and cruel

what distances you span
over heedless mountains
no mind was meant so
arrogantly to challenge

your coldly rigid lines
triangulating the sun
and moon and earth
without a second thought

do you even feel these
dangling twines of limpid
vines that embraced you
oh so very long ago

or must you purposeless
pursue a path that was never
of your making, being
naught but a means

to an end

Salt Lake City 31 Aug 2012

The rail passing through the Santa Cruz mountains

5 thoughts on “a means to an end

  1. You embraced the poem –
    “careless cracking stone
    were you at your inception”

    …and then how beautifully you evoked the imagery here –
    “your coldly rigid lines
    triangulating the sun
    and moon and earth…..
    ……..dangling twines
    of limpid vines”

    You write in chorus of nature, where your train leads for purpose, of minds travelling hectically, of hearts wandering through scenic beauty. There you stand, poised, questions arriving at each station. End it is, but an openness to breathe over and again.
    The picture reveals a lot, George. It could be in parts, that we see different versions to this.
    You are the creator. 🙂


    • “Hearts wandering through scenic beauty” indeed. The journey matters, does it not, Pawan? It matters at least as much as the destination. Perhaps more so. Yet we too often focus on the end. Our sight constrained to peer ahead, even while the heart closes to the here and now. This moment should be of the finest texture, so clearly sensed and felt, and yet with all that is happening around me, I find myself angry with the present, preferring visions of what is to come. My heart, Pawan, longs to be at one with the beloved. This separation crushes my soul. I cling to words, verses, as a form of therapy, praying to be heard, to be known. I am, my friend, disappointed with myself. But at least I know that there are those, like you, who appreciate this feeble effort of mine. Your words nurture me, dear Pawan.


      • “…and you cling to words, as a form of therapy.” This is how you open yourself to endless possibilities. It is good to let your voice out on a stroll, for life reflects your thoughts in every moment. It is a good thing, on a positive note. Right, George ?

        I know you are the best explorer I have met, as I learn from your shadow. 🙂


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