My prayers go out to you tonight wherever you are. May God bless you and protect you in your journeys far from home. When I’m driving down the empty road I’ll give you a ride and be a friend. I love your stories and how you write poems on leather shoes; how you sing to the Louisiana moon. In the dark and on the edge you possess a deep connection to your Creator and he has not forgotten your sleepless soul!
I live in the cave. This is what I’ve dubbed the basement apartment where I’m living three houses from Southern Utah University. It has become a great blessing. Lately I’ve been having a lot of vivid dreams at night in the in the windowless bedroom where I sleep. You can smell the soil of the earth in the foundation. At night I leave the basement door open to hear crickets singing in the back yard. I share my living space with several room-mates; spiders, ants and centipedes. It is very organic and I let those varmints co-exist. There is a mystery I’ve tapped into that is tied to the bedroom. These dreams are wonderful. Some of them are on par with waking reality. Early this morning I dreamed I was floating over a very steep granite canyon somewhere far away. There was dark green grass growing in deep pockets and crevices. There were calm pools of water reflecting the clouds in the sky. It was very surreal. The aesthetics of this dream surpassed anything I’ve experienced in reality. I’ve always been a dreamer. These rare visions though have been very amazing! I believe it was Crazy Horse, the great Lakota leader that referred to the dream world as being the real world and that our waking world being only a shadow of that world.
For the past few weeks I’ve become a very adventurous solo-hiker as well. There are experiences one gains when hiking alone in the hills. You drown in the isolation and it swallows you like a blanket. The dense forest surrounds you and takes you far from life’s travails and into the corners of God’s holy imagination! The wilderness, the wild is my home forever. It has always been a powerful source to existence!
So through life I traverse a happy man of gratitude. And no matter what I am one of the happiest of individuals. Nothing can remove that power because it comes from deep within my spirit. I know of a beauty that most will never find. There are many who cannot see beauty when it surrounds them.
One day I will find my better half and then everything will be complete. There is a sacred song that my mother always sung to me as far back as I can recall. This is a song that I will sing to my future children. It is one of the most powerful songs in my life and it goes like this:
“I know a place where no one ever goes.
There’s peace and quiet, beauty and repose.
It’s hidden in a valley behind a mountain stream.
And there I can find a place - a place where I can dream
Only a place of beauty to the eye,
Snow capped mountains rising to the sky.
Now that I know
That God has created this world for me.
For me. For me!The songwriter or poet is unknown…
I’m sure glad that things like that don’t happen on a regular basis. Something uncommon and rare doesn’t usually pop out of the bush like it did today. I’m not worried about anything paranormal or to do with wildlife. What I’m worried about are the few two-legged varmints that seem to haunt the hills.
Anyone who spends enough time out there will know that it is common sense to carry some kind of self-defense whenever possible. You don’t want to stumble across someone’s marijuana field in a remote canyon and end up meeting the farmer. Or how about the poachers, cattle rustlers, artifact diggers and fugitives running from the law?
I’ve had my share of awkward and strange encounters with a few creeps and I hope to keep them minimal! Today was rather trippy and I would prefer to end this here for now! 
A couple years ago I had an amazing experience not easily explained. In fact I was baffled at first and then totally overjoyed. It all started when I received a fix-it ticket from a highway cop about a month before for a dead tail-light on my Suzuki Samurai. I ended up replacing the whole tail light assembly and was able to find it used at the local junk yard. The problem arose when I neglected to get the ticket taken care of.
I left town for Spring Break that spring and was attending Dixie State College. When I returned I received a letter in the mail from the Hurricane City Justice Court informing me that I had failed to dismiss the citation and also failed to show up in court. In the letter they were threatening to suspend my license, increase my fine and issue a warrant for my arrest. The notice was dated March 9 and the day I received this letter was march 20th. The letter stated that I had to pay the fine within 10 days or these additional charges would apply. I became pretty distressed and called the Hurricane Justice court asap.
When they looked up my case number they said that the ticket had been dismissed and that Nathan Cowlishaw had come in showing proof that the tail light assembly was replaced. The fact is I never went in. They asked me if I had sent someone on my behalf and I told them I did not. The truth is I told no one about my ticket except two family members and they were living hundreds of miles away. During that phone call I had the lady on the other end reverify this information twice and was reassured that my ticket had was dismissed with proof. There were no clerical errors. The citation verification number they had matched the ticket I was holding in my hand. So I hung up the phone and called a few relatives about this.
After all that, I still wasn’t convinced! Being a little obsessive-compulsive I decided to call the court office about twenty minutes later. They located a woman by the name of Lisa. She was the original employee who had engaged in the transaction with the individual that was supposedly me. I spoke with Lisa and she verified that she had spoken to this individual and informed me that his name was indeed Nathan Cowlishaw. She reiterated that he had presented proof that my tail-light assembly had been replaced and they dismissed the ticket.
This is amazing! I don’t know who it was that showed up on my behalf? I don’t know who to thank? I never was at the Hurricane Justice Court to get the ticket dismissed. Lisa said that I must of been doing things right and should thank my lucky stars. To top all that, I was supposed to have a peace officer inspect my tail light and he was supposed to sign the ticket in order for it to be dismissed! Which I never did! That is what makes this a miracle.
I cannot even explain how this could happen logically? Miracles come out of the woodwork when you least expect them. That’s why you never stop believing and always remain hopeful even during those dark struggles in life. Never forget the beauty of this world or the blessings that you’ve been given. I want to thank somebody but don’t know who? I am being watched over and this was one of those unknown happenings.
This morning I listened intently to whistling robins. They were chirping and cheering with an early morning joy. The lovely noise filled me with a bright primordial bliss. There’s a storm rolling in from the desert. The whirling gusts of cold shifting air whip the Ponderosa trees in the yard. The past three days the summer temperatures have spilled into the 90’s but alas the nimble clouds have come to pay Cedar City a visit. Their approach is most anticipated. Never curse the moisture that the Creator provides!
Thank you Heavenly Father for this blessing of harmony. I am so grateful to be a part of the colorful landscape. Canyon Country runs in my blood. It is a part of my soul. When I become old, I want my carcass dumped in a flash flood gully where coyotes may discover my discarded flesh and laugh with joy. May they fill their empty bellies and be content. That is a powerful and pleasant thought.
All around is sand and plateau, the homeland of the Anasazi. Their presence is felt on the ancient wind. Their whispers whistle through pinion and juniper. A spectacular thunderhead trails across the landscape with a cloud shadow dumping rain on the thirsty landscape. The aroma of lightning and wet sage fills the air. Red Indian Paintbrush, Yellow Mustard and Prickly Pear flowers paint the pretty desolation. Welcome to the beauty of Mother Earth and a turquoise Father Sky.
My heart is filled with love for all of God’s creations - for the wailing wind that sings in desert pines. Listen to the old ways when the wasteland shimmers and conjures the past. Like a flickering movie the vision comes alive. My imagination evokes the dreams and they mix with hot summer daylight and rolling thunder. The sweltering sun bakes the land while the thunderhead is an escape from the ultraviolet furnace.
I sweat profusely in the intense dry as the dark rain heads towards my camp. The wind pushes the thunderhead swiftly. The junipers sing with the oncoming assault. Amazing! I’m taking cover in a red nylon tent that flaps and whips violently against the oncoming gusts. The thunderhead descends on my camp ground and strikes full throttle dropping golf-ball-sized rain drops that pound the earth without mercy. The dry beige colored dirt quickly turns dark and saturated rusty brown. A sudden flash of lightning strikes the ground followed by a deafening crack of thunder. As the ground trembles I feel the humbling power of nature.
There is no way to put into words how you feel when looking at huge murals of strange painted beings floating on canyon walls…
These images predate the Anasazi and when they arrived in Grand Canyon perhaps they were perplexed by the archaic pictography scattered throughout Canyon Country? They give you a sense of awe when hiking to remote places like Horseshoe Canyon or the San Rafael Swell in Central Utah.
I have always been fascinated with rock art. When I was in my early teens I’d check out stacks of books from the library on the subject. It developed an interest that became so powerful I started traveling to all the various sites that I could access and have since visited over 800 panels of rock art in Iron County! I’ve been able to locate 23 different sites with the help of old-timers, ranchers, sheep herders and friends. I’ve stumbled across sites that may not even be known to the general public? The majority of sites found around Iron County were left by the Anasazi and Freemont and not the Western Archaics. What really generates the deepest interest for me is the Barrier Canyon styles of rock art that dominate Horseshoe Canyon, San Rafael Swell, Glen Canyon and the Grand Canyon. I’d like to see some of the locations in Grand Canyon but they are closed off to the public.
My imagination is tempted to roam wild when visiting these places because they have an intuitive power to paint images and create scenes in my mind about the lives and times of these ancient people. They used the atlatl for hunting and created Split Twig Figurines that have been discovered in caves all over the Southwest. Very little is known about the Western Archaic peoples that lived in Utah and Arizona. When it comes to the rock art, one can only speculate and it adds to the power and awe of the Barrier Style that leaves you totally amazed. When looking at the images I do feel a power coming from their forms that suggests; perhaps they are real living entities painted on stone as I’ve heard some Ute people say. When viewing photographs of the images I feel the same lurking emotions. A Paiute friend of mine once said that it was appropriate to leave something of value for the pictographs because they are giving away spiritual power, so it is an exchange… As an artist, I feel compelled at times to incorporate them into my; paintings, sketches and doodles.
One thing that really bothers me is when folks have no respect for these sacred places. One of the biggest problems in the Southwest is the vandalism of rock art. It is disheartening to realize that someone would actually hurt a site. In my years of exploration and visiting various petroglyph/pictograph sites I’ve always been vigilant of those that destroy beauty. Anyone who would vandalize, deface or destroy anything sacred or beautiful is an enemy of mine. So when visiting these sites it is my belief that you should do so with respect and learn to hear the voices of the past. When they are disturbed it destroys the tranquility. When people destroy something so priceless and impossible to replace they are muffling those ancient voices. If you believe in the unseen and mysterious you’re best bet would be to protect these sites from those that would do harm to them. For those that do anything to hurt rock pictures will have unanticipated consequences later down the road; a family member could get sick or something? Over the years I’ve heard the many stories of how people mysteriously vanish in the wilderness without a trace. What goes around comes around and I’ve always remembered that and remain vigilant.
I am resting by alcove deep in Canyonlands, dreaming of wasteland shadows and the ancient voices from the past. Thank goodness, I am far from town and listening to the sweet sound of crickets and mourning doves in a cottonwood. A dust devil sweeps the arid plain whipping tumble weeds. A dark black raven trails the light azure sky. The sandstone is baked enough to fry and scramble eggs. The desert is an enormous frying pan. The distant elevated plateau dances in a mirage.
I’m alone and surrounded in pure isolation. Sure do miss those monsoon thunderheads that appear in late July. The crazy wind crashes through Juniper and pinion making the sound of white water rapids. Descending into a narrow slot canyon, into purple shade, I feel the cold red sand rise up between my bare toes. And I must admit It’s very lonesome… but its okay!
Where are you my fellow comrades; desert rats, rock climbers, river runners, outlaws and rugged naturalists? Where are you my beautiful sandstone queen?
Yes, I’ve been diagnosed with this and too much homework at school is the cause. Right now I am working on a paper about Ethnomethodology and how it has become revolutionary in the field of Sociology. It basically invalidates all the old conventional theories like Marxism. Even society is an illusion to the Ethnomethodologist! Maybe I should become one?
Thanks to desert beauty and crickets on warm summer nights, I know what I crave. I miss the dark monsoon storms of late July rolling over high desert plateaus and listening to the distant rolling thunder. The days are growing longer and trees are becoming green. It is time to go sit on Grandma’s porch and watch the hummingbirds.
Well, I’ve spent most my life living outdoors and being in the hills. This summer I am going to photograph areas of rural Southern Utah. Here’s a new twist, I’m also dating and enjoying a social life. Heck, I’m more sociable than I ever imagined. It’s a piece of cake with the right amount of confidence.
This summer my goal is to do some serious hiking in the outback. Running is a new passion. What I need is a good backpack for trekking. My old one is busted. I have an S.A. 44 Magnum to spook off cougars and black bears, so I feel safe going into the wilderness alone. I’ve already come face to face with a black bear and only pots and pans to bang!
It is a real virtue to remain calm when storms unfold. As you think you are getting old now, just keep advancing forward through different levels of maturity. Then you will look back and realize your own immaturities. You will see that wisdom and love are not derived from arrogance or selfishness. Peace and solitude come from selfless introspection and trying your best at finding a way through darkness and suffering. Sadness plays an important role in your progress through life but true happiness is the beauty that brings balance when struggles abound.
It has become Methuselah
while the sweat of black sun
drips from its wooden claws
which break
timeless howling winds
Daily
the cloud people travel
beyond its barren branches
into the ages
of silence
On the furthest edges
of God’s Holy Imagination
stands the test of time
With dark sandstone
plateaus below and
High above
on it’s heavenly throne
rules the ancient
Bristlecone Pine!
In town I feel like a stranger and so I go home to visit the hills. Them rolling mountains have always been my friends. They are always there waiting. My love for the wild is my inner peace. On deep summer nights the thunder rolls over canyon country and I hear the sound of rain when sleeping on these cold winter nights. Oh, how I miss summer’s warmth…
In a dream, the cottonwoods sway to and fro on a heavy wind. I look into the sky and see patches of cumulus cloud ships as they journey through turquoise blue. And all of this fills an empty void inside. Even in hard times, the beauty gets me by from day to day. It helps me to remember and acknowledge the Creator’s hand in all things.
Life is like a rugged dirt road. It has washboards, puddles, and deep ruts, but my happiness has always been in four wheel drive and I can go anywhere I please. So I don’t let sadness or loneliness creep upon me. There is too much at stake. There is too much to be thankful for.
It is a candled night
in dreams they sleep
vast distances lay between
the firelight dances in their minds
with each passing hour
the dream fades
then grows
an empty void fills
the interior walls
of yesteryear
even yesterday
a vision of pairs
walks carefully down
an imagined street
the soft candled
sky shows fiery hues
spiraling galaxies throw
colorful intensities
all the while
in the deepness of the soul
the heart rakes the
rugged densities of life
the feeling of absence
grows arduous in
dark moonless hours
when a beautiful song
cannot be sung
…i know a place
where no one ever goes…
that is how the song is sung
but silence reverberates
no careful peace is felt
on a moonless night
when stars ignite the heavens
and with the silence
comes no certainty
it is peace and quietness
that claims forested hills
in the isolated mansions of earth
the quietest of solitudes
are discovered
i hear the song in my mind
while sleeping as rip van winkle
under a wise cottonwood
of thick, rattling leaves
it all seems a dream
even the labors of life
when basking
in beauty and repose
in the candled night
i dream of the azure sky
beside a mountain stream
singing the same careful tune
it is in a far off place
somewhere
far away
I’ve returned to Southern Utah University to finish my schooling. I am not too far from finishing a degree in Sociology. I will pursue graduate school after that and get a masters degree. My interest is Cultural Anthropology or a related field of study. So I’ve returned after a two year absence.
I’ve been working as a wilderness guide, and have enjoyed many life changing ventures. Being able to traverse the vast distances of the Desert Southwest is a blessing. Being footloose and careless though hasn’t given me the happiness that I would like that usually comes from human affection and finding someone that truly loves you. While the isolation and separation from society is something that I desire, I would like to experience the freedom and responsibility that comes from settling down and raising a family someday. Finishing school is important to a stable and secure future! As much as I love the mountains and prospecting the mysteries of this world, I also have the same desire to start a family one day!
Life is short. There are many blessings in my life. The other night, I was reading the works of Robert Service, and read a poem about men that don’t fit in. I tend to feel like one of them, but I am not going to be one that dies a lonesome and sad hermit. Life is not going play a jolly good joke on me! The truth is, being human and being happy, means having loved ones around and being surrounded by those that care for you. For without love, beauty could not exist. It is my love for the mountains and deserts that make them beautiful! But love is powerful, it is drawn from so many different faucets and they are all interwoven.
When the hardest trials come knocking on your door, that’s when you have to have the strongest faith and steadfastness. That is how it feels. That is the way it always will be. You will not be rewarded until after all the trials of your faith. The truth is that life is unpredictable. The way people react is completely unpredictable. Having a lot of faith is not for the faint of heart. My faith is strong this Sunday morning. I believe strongly in the Creator and am grateful for a powerful blessing that has come into my life. But the truth is, the path through life isn’t an easy path, but it is up to all of us to stay the course. It is my belief that all of life is a test to see if we will remain true and faithful, and endure to the end.
Early this morning, I awakened to the soft winter light seeping through my window as I was pondering everything in reality like what should I do with my life? Where should I go? How hard am I willing to go, to reach my goals and to find true happiness? Faith is for all things hoped for that are not seen…
My love of life is incredible and God made me into a pillar of light. Because I am happy to be free, to roam the quiet folds of reality, to travel the haunted night. I drive a small vehicle down the back roads and dirt roads of a big sky desert. My time is short on earth, but spectacular! When I die, allow the coyotes, buzzards, and varmints to eat my satisfied remains. in the end, I want to give something back to the world of creation that spawned me. How grateful I am to be a part of the grand scheme, from birth to death, in a world of the thriving unknown. Where ghosts lurk behind creaky doors and phantoms float the sandy canyons and the wind truly wails.
I’m gearing to go somewhere in the next few weeks to go camping for a few days alone. I’m looking at Canyon Lands, or over to Cedar Mesa, by Blanding.
Life is good you know, but times can be rough. That’s why sometimes you have to get out and smell the juniper and pinion, and listen to the wind whistle and cut through pine needles. It is a healing song almost, just to hear the wind and the creaking wood of those old trees. You know what I really love to hear? The thunder late on a summer night, somewhere in Canyon Country, and see the faint flash of lightning in the distance. Think of a flash flood ripping down a slot canyon towards the Pariah, out there on the Great Escalante Grand Staircase. It rattles the earth with boulders, logs, and uprooted trees. The power of this planet is awe-inspiring.
The beauty of life is extraordinary. But we only have a short time on this earth to find harmony. And when I am sad, or lonesome, all I have to do is think of the immense beauty that this world brings to all of us. Surely, I am grateful for such splendors and mysteries.
In a time when materialism and greed dominate the earth, and the heart of mankind is deteriorating at rapid speed, I can think about the quietness that lurks in the shadows and this harmony carries my soft heart away. It is those quiet places that most of us choose to ignore, but something is always there, waiting, unconditionally.
And so when I venture far from town, into the deep woods or into the desert, I feel like I’m going home, especially in these difficult times. They are uncertain times, and I know where beauty is found, it is a quiet peace in my heart that is all-too-hard to describe.
In the darkness, when the stars flood the heavens, there are unknown things that prowl the night. The heavens bathe sandstone outcroppings and the landscape in soft, faint, interstellar glow. Coyote laughter disturbs the silence. The border collie begins barking wildly into the black, waking you from sleep. The coyotes head up the dry wash past the ranch house, chanting and singing an ancient song. The clamor grows faint until nothing is heard, while the wind softly carries an aroma of juniper and wet sage from off of higher plateaus. Earlier that day, a small sprinkle of rain was powerful enough to release the sweet smells of desert flora.
While the darkness grows thicker and the heavens deeper, there is a celebration going on. They work feverishly and tirelessly, moving in and out of unknown channels. Those cobweb networks are teaming with life, and they are busy bees, they are… Can you barely hear the noise, when alone in your camp? Do you see a faint glow from the mountain-side? Maybe it was just a mere shimmer of light… or it was nothing at all. Do you care to venture into the abyss?
My writing is picking up. I am sitting alone in a motel room and extremely satisfied. What do ya know! At the moment I feel liberated after traveling long highway stretches and winding through steep rocky canyons. I am the nomadic vagabond!
Tomorrow, I’ll be tearing across the Colorado Plateau from high ponderosa desert to sage covered sandstone mesa. The sweet smell of life and laughter is just fabulous, joyous, and spectacular. I sit all amazed at the center of this Creation. This world is apart of me. My mind is with the shifting clouds that roam colorful vistas.
Life is about love. Loving life is the key to truth and happiness. My thoughts are very active tonight. Something unusual is about to come out of the woodwork. These feelings are like clock work and I’m vigilant. The world is about to change, maybe.
Goodnight Folks. Freedom Rules!
There is a rainbow over yonder
it sings for you.
Through stands of Ponderosa
the same light creeps
across your bare feet.
While you sift
the soft
fertileness.
I’ve been posting to this blog since 2003. I’ve owned this domain since I was a teen. My heart has changed very little since my younger years. My perception of the world has morphed completely and I’ve come to realize the most spectacular beauty in this world is the Mystery. Allowing things to be dictated by the Mystery always puts me on the right course. Everything happens for a reason and we don’t always know why. It is best to let things move along after leaving a track, a mark, or a simple word, whether it’s for another human being or a group. Life is only complex if you try controlling it. I’m in harmony with my life. It’s lonesome at times, but it has been a good experience.
It is quiet outside… Only the ancient wind howls. It comes to visit in dreams.
The power lines run alongside the road with each pole leaning one way or the other. They have become a part of the western landscape. Every road follows a string of power lines. Every sunset is filled with airplane exhaust trails.
There is a rooster tail of dirt behind my wheels and I watch the far flung city disappear in my rear view mirror. To the mountains I go, to the lovely isolation. Beneath the fall sky and wintry clouds, the sun is glazing the Great Basin. Somewhere in those Junipers, it is waiting, a place to visit long ago. It’s not hard leaving the madness and bickering behind for the quiet universe. There is a beauty inside that I can never put down. And to the world of rocks, animals, and trees, I go.
I’m working two jobs at the moment. One is Bar 10, out in the Grand Canyon. The other, Bundu Bashers, out of Park City. My last tour is on the 6th. I guess, I’m done with work for the season. This is a three-day tour beginning when I pick folks up on the Vegas Strip. The first day we visit Zion National Park and Grand Canyon. One of the days we have Navajo guides take them to Antelope Canyon and then over to Monument Valley. On the third day, we go to Horseshoe Bend, Bryce Canyon, and then back to Vegas. For three more hours I drive back up to Cedar City. On the way, I stop at the Moapa Paiute Travel Plaza to gas up and look around the shop.
I’d like to go camping in the Mormon Mountains pretty soon. They are apart of the Mojave desert and north of Moapa. Maybe to a place called Welcome Springs. It’s warm during during the fall and real isolated. For a week I went into that country and never saw another two-legged, just wild horses. Of course that was more in the high country on the way to Pioche, through Rainbow Canyon. In the old west, Pioche was one of the most lawless towns in Navada. It is said that there were more then 75 men killed in shoot-outs before anyone actually died of natural causes.
So after these tours, I’m going to travel the Mojave this next winter. Most of Central and Southern Nevada are part the ancestral homelands of the Nuwuvi, or Southern Paiute. I just finished reading a fictional account of a great Southern Paiute Warrior by the name of Mouse… The chairman of the Moapa tribe is quoted on the back of the book, giving it praise. The author isn’t native. I thought it was pretty good read. Although I know books are all-to-often, subjective. There’s a place in the Valley of Fire, which is also known as the Place of Birth to the Southern Paiute, where Mouse hid out and continually resisted the European invaders in his homeland during the 19th century. He was a thorn in the side of the Mormons that lived in his country. Good for Mouse! If you visit the Valley of Fire, north of the Moapa Indian Rez, there is a place the locals call Mouse’s Tank where he spent his days of resistance. There’s a lot of history in Southern Nevada, and it’s pretty interesting. Most of it is unknown to a lot of people.
Some of the folks are getting to know me at the travel plaza, because of all the stops I make while doing this job. When I was younger though, my cousins, brother, and I, we would usually stop there to load up on fireworks before heading off to go camping. We’d travel to places like Hamblin Valley, or north of Pioche, up into the Pinon country. In the fall, you can gather pine nuts. The Travel Plaza itself, is a truck stop, book store, gift shop, clothing store, casino, and everything else. It has one of the largest stock piles of fireworks in Southern Nevada. Pyro Heaven!
So this winter, I’ll venture where wild horses roam and the wind constantly moves. Nevada is a big sky state. It isn’t hard to get lost while roaming hundreds of miles through the interior. After all the time I’ve spent, I have barely scratched the surface.
Southern Nevada is a land of the Nuwuvi and I will always remember it as such. When I take visitors through, I tell them about the Southern Paiute and the folks that run the Plaza. The last time I was there, I locked my keys in the shuttle van while getting gas. Luckily one of the employees had some knowledge about opening locked doors. He unlaced his shoe and made a noose out of a shoelace. Carefully we pried a side window in the van. He slipped the noose through the opening. It took about an hour before this boy was able to get the noose onto the locking mechanism, and unlock the door. I was amazed!
It grows cold tonight. The twilight is winter red. The leaves are gold and orange. Not long now and cottonwood skeletons will be exposed in canyon bottoms. Time to go to Cal’s ranch with my next paycheck and get me a Carhartt jacket for the winter snow and muck.
The Colorado Plateau has some of the most spectacular landscapes when they are decked in snow. The good thing about this time of year; no more tourists, no more commercial RVs crowding the back roads. The highways are mostly quiet in the winter, especially out by Tropic and Escalante, Utah.
inside the doorway of the traveling sky,
there is quiet peace in this world.
although there is a lonely wagon filled with ashes
it wonders past sea and mountain, and through the valleys.
when it gets dark and black.
without sight, does it wonder
and cannot find peace.
the children that knew, are crying,
while their parents lay in bed dying.
and so the only mother of them all
went to her autumn grave,
and soon the peaceful snow gathered.
the wagon wonders,
with it’s ashes.
In the dark it wonders.
but in dreams, the children are free
where burdens do not exist.
where suffering has no season.
sad world, sad people.
God has been abandoned,
in a hidden place,
the wagon of ashes has stopped,
far away beneath the treeless moon.
the stars are freezing in the bitter cold.
the children that knew are crying,
while their parents were dying,
in the realm of this sad, sad world.
