Racing the dark from Albuquerque to Flagstaff

 old questions trailed behind me

The highway marked with broken dreams

 of searchers long ago

As Gallup filled my rearview mirror

  the sun reached out and grabbed me

My last horizon dropping fast

 —the finish line aglow

(Flagstaff Arizona: February, 2019)

Does your mind have a second floor

 that’s very seldom used

A place your thoughts can freely roam

 safe from life’s abuse

One story up, your story forms,

  its telling far below

The height of peace and solitude

   —with space for you to grow

(Santa Fe New Mexico: February, 2019)

Time immortal, the master thief,

 stealing tomorrow from the past

Abducting each moment, all life itself,

 —today within its grasp

(Santa Fe New Mexico: February, 2019)

Time is the mask that all memories wear,

 as feelings age within

Time is the bridge where eternity walks,

 each footstep to begin

Time is a voice spoken only inside

 where denial cannot hear

Time is the measure of what’s yet to come

  —in moments far and near

(Santa Fe New Mexico: February, 2019)

There a mountain in my rearview mirror

 a magnet for my soul

Pulling on what’s only borrowed 

 its lease to keep me whole

There’s a mountain in my rearview mirror

 calling out my name

Its winds have blown my heart to rest

 —which time cannot reclaim

(Santa Fe New Mexico: February, 2019)

When I want to visit God,

 I go to the Grand Canyon

Where she talks to me plainly

 and talks to me clear

Staring at eternity

 I look into her depths

As she calls to me familiar

 —and calls to me dear

(Grand Canyon South Rim: February, 2019)

With each step that I take,

 words jostle and form

Inside me they cluster

 deep down where it’s warm

At nighttime they visit

 in moments of peace

Defining my feelings

 —extending my reach

(Las Vegas Nevada: January, 2019)

Deep in the canyon with the grace of your souls

 carrying your memory inside me

Visiting places where we spent time before

 seeing each one of your faces

Hearing your voices whispering inside

 reminding of what we knew then

Sealing a vision all time has denied

  old beginnings freed from the end

Deep in the canyon, the cliffs high above

  the echoes like condors they climb

The river runs wild as it carries our dream

 like a mother in birth of a child

The wind calls out once, then calls out again

 its question defying an answer

As our souls reunite in the vastness below

  —the story of five canyon dancers

(Havasupai Indian Village: January, 2019)

Have you done enough

Have you seen enough

Have you loved enough

  —until an Angel sings

And the Heaven’s sigh

Your last goodbye

Your last goodbye

  —on spoken wings

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2015)

If you ask the right questions

 expect silence to answer

When begging for the truth

 —your poverty shows

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)