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The clouds are like monsters descending upon the plateau, with shadows that blanket the landscape. The rain comes in February, in place of snow. When the desert is sweet, and quiet, nothing moves but the occasional wind. The sweet smell of rain mixes with fresh smells of Juniper, sage, and even the aromatic sand. I can feel spring coming, on the horizon; coming like a cloud shadow, to greet me. Spring comes to my window, song birds come to the trees.

On another note, I keep thinking of myself as an old man. I fear the thought of being prepared by some mortuary. To my future children, please don’t let these villians do this to me! I want you to haul me out into the middle of nowhere, and let the coyotes fill their stomachs. Let the hungry raptors feed their young. I don’t want to be stuck into one of those airtight coffins.

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In the dark mansion of space
I ponder the old ways of this world.
Will we ever return?
What are humans without?

With every traffic noise
and every humming car
The silence remains there afterwards.
A silence greater then humans.

The pine tree quietly waits,
the forest is waiting.
The mountains keep covered secrets.
There is a greater cause
weaving into us, illusions or truths.

With every lifestyle and luxury,
Death eventually comes to everyone.
Death converts humans to the quietness…
of the flowing river,
and the natural flow.

I’m waiting for the mystery
to carry me away
over vast distances of knowledge.
I have a home beyond death.
I ponder the still endless
wastelands of the desert
onward, into dreams.