FootprintsintheWind.com

What is left when the jar breaks and the water runs out?
When the cage is opened and the bird flies away?
To the play when the theatre goes dark?

What difference did the jar, the bird-song, the play make?
Almost none if it be one
if it aims to make differences

Will the water remember how it was shaped?
Will the birdsong echo down the millennia?
How many futures will the actors speak to?

What remains after the jar, wing and dialogues?
What remains of the will of potter, cage-builder, play-wright?
Yawn, stretch, greet

:- Doug.

Where do we get the pictures of G*d we carry around in our wallets?

:- Doug.

Let us look and see if that is true, if it is wholly true. Could its direct opposite be true as well?

:- Doug.

It’s a ponderful life!

:- Doug.

Look in yourself
you will see
a desire to improve
This is life speaking:
“I want to unfold:
You are my fingertips.”
Although we quarrel over details
this is the only proof
you will need
that we evolve

:- Doug.

A calling is not a leash
It is an unleashing

:- Doug.

No one knows if others
see green the same way
they do
no man knows what an orgasm
feels like to a woman
nor another man, either
but in that space between us
where we meet and become
a third person together
here we can know
one
mystery

:- Doug.

To say too much is to say nothing.

:- Doug.

Trust people
expect not
we all give birth

:- Doug.