Carndo (Bill Whitehorn)

[carndo]

those rhythms of the day

where the blue of the sky

seems like an ocean

that goes on and on

where if one is lucky

they might see an eagle

soaring in the wind

enjoying his freedom

those horizons

found in flight

pushing the clouds in the distance

serenading those below

[carndo]

that final solution

within a single stroke

abrasions within the wind

yet it catches one by surprise

sudden

without a thought

wherein a single hope

somehow is lost in the wind

[carndo]

storm is coming

better batten down the hatches

because mother nature

pars no favors

in the way she looks at things

so the warning is nigh

and some better heed it

no telling what you'll find afterward

reason comes to those who listen

to wisdom

that comes their way

[carndo]

caves echo

within the darkness

wherein that evocation

touches beyond that blindness

humid currents

lost within the breeze

and yet in the silence

beauty finds that voice

oblivious in the element

[carndo]

pathways that touch

within sacred winds

where in that journey

finds more than some can conceive

red canyons reach within spring fed mountains

where rainbows touch

within sunset colors

creeks run red from spring rain

polished sandstone lingers into

ancient spirits

where silent messages

reach within inscribed arches

undiscovered gulches

golden aspens

rise with oaks

showing mother nature

as she only can

[carndo]

those sands

washed on the shore

of a river

wild

unexplored

that is full of life

yet reminds one

that nature reigns

even when

one doesn't expect it

[carndo]

walking those trails

where loose slabs of slate

make one pay attention

to where one's sense of balance

is retained

yet allowing one

to explore

the mystery

of the unknown outdoors

finding those clues

of who once lived here

in the past

and if you listen

you might hear

their song

[carndo]

that whisper

calling your name

within the echo

of mountains

recollections

of ancient civilizations

that once prevailed

on the edge

of rivers

that carved

stone

voices of the past

which leave clues

of how they lived

those open spaces

that most crave

instead of depraved

cities

that care not of nature

[carndo]

moonlight

serenaded by the call of the wolf

listen for the whispers

within the breeze

those howls

that speak freedom

tranquility

which moves the heart

that breath

which sings mystery

murmuring the comfort

felt by the spirit

that rises into midnight

[carndo]

those rhythms within the rhyme

that settle within the harmony

yet seem to hold

that oxymoron

in which is simple to understand

and really no one can

[carndo]

that rain

which falls on your face

completely washes you down

and yet somehow

you're yearning for something more

you can't put your finger on it

still...

the emotion is clear

reasons aren't logical

they never are

which results

only within

that simple want

[carndo]

to touch

within that place

where one hears those whispers

within echoes

which reveals

that sacredness

felt deep within



to honor

those ancient

who have walked

paths

from a distant time



can you hear

whose who have walked

shores

within this country of ours?

[carndo]

those rhythms

which harmonize

that simple echo

yes a melody

which is felt

deep within

listen...

can you hear it?

those whispers

that rage

the spirit

which begs to be simply

heard

communion

in those lyrics

within the light of the heart

[carndo]

sentinels

within the horizon

where the ancient

find that echo

that whispers

honor

those sandstone monuments

within the southwest

where one hears

coyote clearly

as his humor

speaks those truths

within everyday

life

and as you listen

to his tales

one hears

that simple wisdom

[carndo]

truth

sometimes is fleeting at best

depending on the perspective

of what one is looking at

and yet

it's best

to somehow find it

but like a shadow

it disappears

when light directly is shown at it

yes...

I'm saying the greys

that stray in between

find their place

in today's reality

and somehow

truth escapes

between the cracks

and never is seen

for what it should be