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Excerpt for Choose Carefully Tread Lightly by , available in its entirety at Smashwords


Title Page


Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)


Copyright (©) 2018 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing


Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada


Cover pictures by: (old man) by Khaled: (path) by Michael Quinn


All pictures found on FreeImages.com


Space Picture: ESA/Hubble


I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.

Contents

Title Page

Foreword

The Great Maze!

A Moron

A Path Maker

Against The Wind

Ain't Love Grand

Observe Gently...

Now

New Reality

A Naturist

Alone

Being Humble

Burning Bridges

Change Your Mind

Offer Of Night

Tug Boats

Expression Of Freedom

Falling In Love

Embrace All (Don’t Be Shy!)

Echoes Of Life

The Woman In The Park

Choose Carefully, Tread Lightly





Foreword


These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.


Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.


It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

The Great Maze!


At one point I felt trapped, lost;

no way out of the maze, I thought

until I realized,

the maze need not be a trap,

but a place to walk in awareness

with every turn,

with every surprise,

with every horror;

with every encounter of love.


Most people I see,

struggle a life time for a way out,

for something more pleasing

'til death says “no more!”


Was there never a plastic bag

dancing in a city's breeze?

Never a child's laughter at play?

Never an opportunity to see

the other side of life,

the other side of the maze?


No matter which hallway you run down,

which door you step through,

which window you jump out of:

move and the maze challenges

you to broaden your outlook.


I choose to see beyond my comfort zone,

broaden myself, look out a new window,

walk a new path, open a new door,

fly to new heights, create my self anew,

create God anew.


Maybe life on Earth

is just a small part of a bigger maze:

Maybe, just maybe, we've only just begun!

A Moron


A moron: one who has more on

then anybody else

(laughing poet def.),

One who doesn't want to learn

(or remember?)

that having less on

means being more enlightened,

by having less shame.


The one who remembers,

who learns the lesson of life,

is not ashamed to take more off,

she is tired of being a moron;

embarrassed about herself!

She experiences how good it feels

to sample innocence again

simply by having... less on.


I would suggest, however,

not to do this

in the harshness of a Winter's day:

think of the smug judgments

should you catch pneumonia

and maybe die;

See them shaking their heads

hear their tongues wagging

saying in mock concern,

"Didn't I say,

she should leave her house

with more on?"

But then, who knows but that

it's better to be dead,

than to be a MORE ON!


A Path Maker


A path maker,

beats a track in deep snow,

walking to, then fro,

so older ones,

those not so sure of foot,

smaller of stature,

or a woman with child in arm

can get through without stumbling.


In his dream, the path maker

helps people along their own way;

he extends a helping hand,

a kind thought,

offers an encouraging word

to make a memory from a smile...


I realize how each individual

must walk his own path.

This does not mean, however

one cannot place a few markers

along the trackless void.

Against The Wind


She was born to run against the wind;

knowing naught of walking lightly

in silken nightgown on a morning breeze.


Mother said: girl, you make it happen

no one else does it for you...

and she became a believer.


No stepping back from life's thrust,

no time to create a peaceful, tranquil space

where uplifting thoughts could flow

to people her nights and fill her days.


A child was born to her; a man was lost

and in her joy, and in her pain,

she found the peace she'd never known

hidden within her own understanding.


She became a flowing river

winding her way through life,

allowing the course of events

to mold her, never enslave her.


She found herself moving forward

in laughing twists and crying turns,

adding new dreams to old, and in these,

finding hidden paths to unknown places.


Finally she saw the child grow strong;

free in the world she had nurtured.


Ain't Love Grand


Love -

can you feel the feeling it gives?

Wonderful thing, love, isn't it -

so warm, so safe, so comforting...

So... well, loving, isn't it!


What great things people do

in the name of love!

A man marries a woman

in the name of love

and she goes with it

for the same reason:

when she is found beaten to death

this is what he's got to say:

“I loved the bitch so much

I had to kill her -

she threatened to leave me.”


People love their nation

and in the blink of an eye,

they're off to war, bombing, shooting, killing

all in the name of patriot love

(The raping, pillaging and looting -

the fringe benefits of patriot love).


People love their God of Love

and wouldn't you know it?

The only way they can find peace

and express their deepest love for enemies

is by slaughtering their opponents -

even if these love the same God...


What was it they said about love -

“Ain't love grand!”


Ah well, it makes great headlines

(especially if the rich and famous are involved)

It sells wedding dresses, magazines, flowers

and weapons of mass destruction.

(Do you wonder where have all the flowers gone?)

Love, oh Love,

Shall we give you another round of applause?

Observe Gently...


Walk, don't run, along your life's roads

in humility, open to understanding,

for all are designed as lessons

in experience for the universal soul.


Learn to breathe in deeply

all of life that surrounds you;

pause often, take time to observe

every living thing; how a tiny seed

transforms into a giant tree,

gnarled roots enveloping

the edge of a cliff on a lake.


Note the cycles of life repeating;

feel the growth energy

fill and lift your heart

as the spreading light of the morning sun

gives nourishment to the land.


Stand quietly in the rain

as its life giving waters run over your skin

entering the ground gently

where you walk in wonder

on one of life's countless roads.

Now


I can't be content only

with yesterday's glory;

I can't exist only

on promises of better times,

waiting for winter to change

suddenly into spring:


Today is my moment;

Now is my story,

never before told;

never to repeat...


and as I contemplate

the movements in space

I see the past re-arranging itself

and the future unfolding

exactly as it should.


New Reality


Must we leave

this "reality"

we have called home

until now?

Must we chase

new experiences

upon new worlds

far out in space,

hoping they'll be

bursting with life,

in pristine conditions?


Should we hope someday

to walk unsullied wilderness,

without borders,

without boundaries,

no longer chained to the grind,

no slaves of death?


Or,

would it be simpler

to change the way we perceive

our daily 'reality?

To superimpose

our hopes and dreams

on the facade

of a strip mall?




A Naturist


Human nakedness

draping a sun-drenched shore:

Ah, the shame, the sin!


Human nudity walking free

on a shore caressed by gentle waves:

Ah, the wonder of it, the stimulation

the thought brings!


A naturist doesn't ponder these thoughts;

life is to be enjoyed, not dissected

not judged right, wrong, or measured

but lived in the wonderful moment

of pure enjoyment: let what comes just come.


A free being learns to cherish

the true beauty of personality, character;

to fully enjoy the companionship in another

while appreciating in openness

the sheer excitement of the human body

unbound from the disease-ridden rags

of passing times.


So, I say,

rejoice! Be not shy, be not ashamed

to express your own passion, your love of life,

your freedom found in simple nudity

among others of like mind.

End the hypocrisy and repression:

join in the great awakening.

Alone


Alone, of necessity,

for who could understand

know,

the mind of the seeker?

Only the seeker.


The park is still green

and the wind rustles the leaves

in the afternoon.

Gulls still circle the pond

where goldfish stagnate

and friends still sit on benches

gossiping, wondering,

shaking their heads

at all this foolishness.


Alone, of choice

for without letting go;

without turning from the old

the new cannot materialize.

The quester knows this:

deliberately she turns her back

on all she has received,

all she has accomplished,

all she has gained,

all she thought she was

(or could ever be).


Closure:

the end of a passage

the beginning of a new.

No one follows you

for the eye of the needle

is the passage of one --

one way only --

would strangle the unprepared.


No return fare: no return.

Detachment: preparation;

Loneliness: freedom.

Death: resurrection.


There are no short-cuts --

the sun must set.

Being Humble


Love, so goes the saying,

is never having to say

"I'm sorry!"

But how can one love so much?


There may be a way to love

simply... accept

that which is, for what it is:

no stress or strain of judgment

for all is ultimately subjective.


Observe - without condemning.

Observe - learn discernment

Observe - learn to build

Observe - no need to destroy

for that which no longer serves

will fall like grasses in hedgerows

when October passes by.


Praise honestly, openly

only that which is praiseworthy.

No need to elevate one

by pushing down another

for pride can make good use

of false humility,

but humility is greater by far

than the mightiest pride.

Burning Bridges


Your bridge is engulfed in flames

and in panic, you try to run back across,

thinking your life was safer, maybe even better

while still on the other side.

Disaster! The bridge crashes into the river

and you fall to your knees, wailing:

you cannot go back; are afraid to move on

to face unknown challenges that lie ahead

in the unexplored country.


As you watch the mighty river

wash away remnants of your bridge,

a spirit appears in the smoky air,

beckoning you to accept the inevitable.

"You can never relive the past:

why be afraid to let your bridges burn?

The road of life has no round trip fare:

all your paths are but one-way streets.


Learn to rejoice at the end of each road,

at the crossing of each stream and river;

laugh at the fall of burning bridges!

Why should you care about so-called wisdom

which says, 'Don't burn your bridges!'?

If I can teach anything at all,

it's that no life is possible

without burning bridges!

Every experience forges a new link

in the chain of life, moving ever forward

towards man's final destiny:

there can never be a turning back

once you begin your walk

in earth's domain.

Change Your Mind


I was out walking today,

wondering why I keep falling

into the same potholes?

Even when I go on a new road

there they are again: same potholes

as on my previous road.


Then I passed an old man;

I distinctly heard him mutter,

“Walking a different road

will not change your life:

the potholes you fall into,

you carry in your mind

and sow wherever you go.


If you want real change,

change your mind;

change the inner, not the outer.

Abandon old energy patterns

so new ones can form;

do this: you will see a new life

from new experiences.”

I made a vow to accept

what I heard that old man say

to put it in practice today.

But silly me!

Making vows is old energy!

Another pothole on the track!

Offer Of Night


You won’t come out with me after midnight?

Why?

Is night time more evil than daytime?

A cloudy day more evil than a sunny day?

Only in the mind is it so,

for the mind is conditioned to accept

that darkness harbors primordial evil.


Would you see the flight of the owl

over the dull gray snows?

The labour of the beaver

under the cycles of the moon?

Would you go swimming the river

only feeling the whispering waters

over your nude skin?


Why walk only one side of the path?

Come out into the blackened meadow

to hear the song of the stars!

Come see angels spread waves of coloured light

in the far northern regions!

Come track a shooting star

and make a wish with me:

Let me see you through your perfume...

Tug Boats


Tirelessly, endlessly,

day in, day out

they chug their way

up, then down

the course of the river

seeking payloads:


--huge booms of logs--

to haul into

the gaping maws of giant mills

never satisfied, never filled:


a ceaseless labour

to what end?


The men who labour on the tugs

--so strong and friendly--

so ready to give help when needed:


what are they thinking of

travelling thus

as Atlas burdened

forever it would seem

back and forth

back and forth?


I could guess their thoughts

but I would rather not

(so let me tell you what I think:)


these dead logs herded

down the mighty river

were a forest once

where countless things

did live

--happy and free since time began--


the things that live there

live no more

(whatever we may prefer to believe:

look at the sky!)

in giant booms

their coffins float

to hungry mills:


The men who fall the forest

–what can they do?

they watch the things die

and run away

from their homes


as they

hack, buck, choke,

pile, load, dump,

box, float, drag--

and obediently deliver

into gaping maws

of insatiable mills

demanding

ever more, ever more.


They are helpless now

for they believed

and for their due, received

the mark of the beast

by which, to live

one must destroy

to profit another:

a heartless, spiritless

inhuman creature

whose veins twisted, bloated

run with black ink,

whose blood is the green

of envy and jealousy:

the World Trade Merchant

seeking profit at any cost:

servant of a Dark Lord

who aims to make of us all

slaves and destroyers.


Now I ask you this

if you care at all--

Is it too late

to find another way?

too late to repent, to change

to rescind

an ignorantly-made allegiance

to a power gone mad?

Can we return

to simple love-energy?

or

have we crossed

the very last boundary

the very last hope

by our own

insatiable lust?

Expression Of Freedom


Walking naked on a sandy beach

on a warm summer day:

can there be a higher expression

of total freedom?

No clothes, no harness nor chain

to smother the body,

preventing it from feeling

nature's tender, gentle hands caressing the skin.


What if you are male

and happen to have an erection

while admiring others sharing this freedom?

Why should anyone feel shame

when seeing this expression

of unrepressed sensual pleasure?


The questions to ask are:

why do people become uneasy,

with one body's natural reaction to another?

Why do humans so easily confuse

the issues of sex and of love?

Shouldn't they ask themselves if somehow

their taboo on sexuality is a taboo on love?


The final question: why taboos at all?

We accept pain readily enough;

what’s wrong with pleasure?



Falling In Love


They say it's Oh! so nice to fall in love

with one who melts your heart;

who makes you feel desired

and wanted in every way.


Yes, maybe it is, Oh! so nice

if he or she is free

from previous engagements!


How often I have seen this thing:

Yes, they fall and one significant other

is forgotten in their moment of passion

as lust rises like a tide; ebbs just as surely

leaving its strange but familiar stench

in some no-wo-man's land.


Now comes the time for reckoning:

the lies flow easier every passing day

until that other notices the change

and asks: and always the same answer:

“Why would you think such a thing?”


But as the lies become smoother,

the conviction is equally less.

They always know; always find out

and the denied pain hits as a slap in the face.

That is the way of things.


Humans sell each other

to each other: for sex; for a song;

they lie together; lie to one another

for a promise neither can keep

but by an untrue self: time we grew up;

stop making silly promises to break.


We meet, we love, we do the thing

and when we return home it's still OK.

For it is understood

that is the way of things:

True love will not be bound

or put in bonds, even if called “marriage.”


Embrace All (Don’t Be Shy!)


Embrace all who enter your life,

the young, the old, the weak, the strong

friends and strangers, gather ye ‘round the table!

For whatever reason exists, let them sit:

are they here to be awakened by growing wisdom

or to share a changed outlook

following a massive Earth change?

Or are they of those who come to enlighten,

to increase awareness within this duality,

bringing experiences from life in the beyond?


Embrace all who enter your life, friend or foe

and you will surely know who you are!

How else can you transmute energies

from this obsolete and dangerous system,

or help another seeker through his transition?


Help each other discover knowledge

from sharing dreams that seem to make no sense;

from speaking of other worlds seen in the shadows;

not forgetting to understand this world

through this experience in broadened perspective.


Be ‘off the wall’ and who really cares

if you come across as really “out there?”

You’ll still walk those streets tomorrow,

‘cause the System’s shut down its loony bins

due to a perceived lack of funding...

you can have the last laugh, Oh, yes!

Echoes Of Life


A squirrel gathers nuts in a sun-filled glade;

salmon struggles up a swirling stream;

the sun streams down over bluebells and chocolate lilies;

two eagles soar: pin-points on a blue horizon;

a Summer storm replenishes mountain streams;

and somewhere, waves crash against a rocky shore

and cottonwood leaves rustle in a midday breeze.


The cry of a gull comes from the shimmering skies

- in August they return from the sea -

and a raven soars by, diving wildly

to disappear somewhere below a rocky ridge;

a brown fox dances in the kinnikinnick

and red paintbrushes tremble in the breeze.


These images of the planet I hold sacred

even as one of millions of unseen faces

under the ever-spreading canopy of the city

whose smoggy breath forever hides the stars -

the city, where no one looks up anymore

except those still mesmerized by her neon gods.


Yet even here, in the great inferno, life thrives:

people talk and laugh at sidewalk cafés;

impromptu gardens drape balconies and window sills;

rock doves in iridescent plumage flap their wings

and trees still grow, surrounded in concrete and steel

and like humans, learn to breathe the poisonous fumes

of an endless flow of passing traffic...


'Ah well, all is fine,' I find myself thinking

as a soft breeze suddenly ruffles my hair

as I run across a tree-lined boulevard;

when the sun breaks through between highrises

to touch my skin as in my days in the mountains.


All of this reminds me of the beauty of Earth;

how privileged I am just to be;

to have experienced one colorful sunrise;

to have made love, if only once,

between the roots of a big old tree:

to be one of the undying echoes of life.


The Woman In The Park


Sunny Sunday morning

and I noticed her again,

the woman in the park

sitting quietly near a shrub

among the waving daffodils.


Quiet she may have been

but the gaze that met mine

said so many things.


I first saw sorrow

but it was not for herself

for I saw compassion

when she looked over the city;

then I saw wonder

at the beauty that surrounded her;

I saw amusement

in a pair of clumsy ducklings

waddling through the grass;

I saw laughter

when a child handed her a flower

and finally, I saw love

when I offered her my hand.

Choose Carefully, Tread Lightly


Choose carefully your time and space...

may it always be by choice, never by force

where you find yourself expressing

with your body the shape of your mind.


All have a place in the puzzle of Earth,

though few find it, and many suffer

following the dreams of others,

in greed and schemes and half-baked hopes

that come to nothing in the end.


Choose carefully your sacred place

and tread lightly - or not at all

for not all of it can hold your weight

nor fulfil the desires of your heart:

Be aware of all the limitations --

nature is but a child - willing but weak.


Choose carefully where your eyes rest

and do not hold what is there with money

or even in dream or memory.

For what is held on to, always dies,

but what remains free, always lives.


Choose carefully where you put your paddle,

disturb the waters not, go gently and silent

whether the water be calm or stormy;

whether it be muddy or clear --

be not the one who upsets the balance:

you will be well repaid when your turn comes

to lay at rest all that you chose to pass by.


Choose carefully and be aware,

but do not hang on, you are a bird on the wing

and how swiftly will Autumn come

and the call of migration pull you away

perhaps never to return: let the rains of winter

wash away your nest of mud and sticks.




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