The impression in the path

Through Nuuanu where we tend to the unseen

and plant paths that lead to places praise

behind the shafts on streams

blending in to canopies and dreams.

There are no cars beneath the eaves of ancient trees

but the old road at its root is an intermediary,

a dead end where one keeps going

there is always rain

it is part of the unknowing.

The pilgrim in the valley

amongst the stones and the streams

substances to gather

he comes baring shadows.

Part the leaves

pull through sleeves and enter slowly.

Trees quiver in wild communication

of something coming

the night

in a masquerade of clouds

dances across the sky.

Shrouded mountains in morning

the soul, the impression in the path,

seeks no followers.

Close to the wet breast of forest

it maneuvers its feet in flecks of light

radiating off of bamboo dancing in the darker places.

Like Spring on its long way down

the mountain of melting

white wash over smooth stone

go alone and remain

open to receive

momentum, seasons, cycles,

rain seeping into the earth

like disparate dreams of fractured places

filling the mind with pools of inverted faces

sweats of anticipation, encouragement, indifference,

the unknown assuring that chapters finish

as feathers spread in the sun

to soar you from chopped off islands

in a sea of becoming.



3 thoughts on “The impression in the path

  1. nick says:

    dominick, i love the last lines “the unknown assuring ….”, very powerful and soothing thoughts. nick

  2. domtakis says:

    I get back there whenever possible, it is an inspiring and peaceful place.

  3. This really needs a lot of quiet communication to my brain, Dominick. I could re-read this 100 times and always find something new. You are the literal mirror of your father’s images. What a gift!!!

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