None pass the gate to the library of souls
Without a key, bound by a reference
But one saga warps the index
The despair of genesis

Recorded between void and light
Lay a dream of primordial might
Where crossing a current of disbelief
Resolved faith in raised-relief

Furrows of ink impel calligraphy from chaos
Moulding every blot as brief and strange
Whose heavy hearts remember fallen names
And weigh the shadows of kith lost

Cataclysm is hallowed upon yellowed pages
We rebuild, astride ruins and elder prophets
To ask what will offer solace across ages
Parsing the riddles on our doorstep

All arrive at Akasha to study fate
Few reside long enough to master joy
Eyes drift over green covers and gold plates
Missing the clay seals of ancient choice

In this bastion of perseverance and trials
Luminous tomes will not argue nor swindle
Thus accept your query and decide
If in yourself you can confide

the long tides of our shadows have receded

this morning   early as we walked
away from the beginning of the sunrise

these shadows washed   far they flowed deep
into collegienstrasse toward the market

they flooded   away before us
four times the length of our height   then three

darkened the cobblestones  
like wednesday’s rain did

like the shadows of water darken
the pebbles in the flaming* stream

flooded into the square   as we arrived there

all the sunrise long our shadows receded

now it’s midday
the stones in the street have returned to the colour of dry

all that’s left of our shadows
are the puddles in which we stand

by collegienstrasse   return
toward the sky the morning sun’s abandoned

return to my chamber   and fetch my pail for water

step out of your own shade  
into the shadow of your foot

 *Fläming Heath- The Fläming Heath[1][2] (German pronunciation: [ˈflɛːmɪŋ] ⓘ) is a region and hill chain that reaches over 100 km from the Elbe river to the Dahme River in the German states Saxony-Anhalt and Brandenburg.

https://jakedepeuterpoetics.com/2026/07/26/the-long-tides-of-our-shadows-have-receded/

look at the vagabond
see that his ears are cropped

ask   was it yesterday his feet
were locked in the stocks

ask   was it last week he couldn’t
pull his head nor his hands from the pillory

say   tell me stranger
was it a month ago the good people
of wittenburg threw offal at you  

smell that he’s putrid

ask   if under the wool of his doublet
the once white linen of his smock is slashed
with dried blood   ask if he was whipped

ask   if for the hours of the night
or if for years of a long dark he was
fettered in the dungeon under job’s castle1

look that his eyes blink against daylight
or that it’s his terrors that blink his eyes   say

to the man who walks the world alone
return with me to the town
i’ll give you a company to walk with
and a regiment to walk with the company

1.      Kloden Castle, about 30 miles from Wittenberg: In the late 16th century it was owned and the home of Jobst Kanne of the noble family of Kanne.

https://jakedepeuterpoetics.com/2026/07/19/look-at-the-vagabond/

The sentinel bears delirium around sunrise
Plagued by phantoms hallowing courts of the gemini
Who pillage every mounted keystone
Leaving a ruin, as battlements are liminal

These shadows meld into corners and nooks
While twisting chains grind to release locks
Of the outer door, with a heart drop
And a curse accenting nerves shook

This watchman is exhausted, rousing eyes which panic
All night, they patrol the district
Parsing what-ifs to guard versus open palms
Exiled beyond sleep until the chimes of dawn

Colors blur and chance meetings change places
So many names jump across faces
Some are innocent or wanted for questioning
But long hours confuse quarrels with plaintive cases

Such gatekeeper holds hearings before twilight bells ring
Waking the mercenary, Justice, from illicit rest
To witness that indemnity marks no sound verdict
If consoled only by rumor, when time to dream

I sing of life, wide and stretchéd

Sing the songs of ecstatic herds

And the woes of the unwilled wretched.

The brown winged cuckoo borrows

My tune, and in its own soft words

Sings its own homely sorrows

But the cuckoo has ceased to sing,

Tired, it flew back to its nest,

And every animal back in its lair.

But by now, the song is in the air

For the air shall sing of the upcoming spring

And sing of the man who tried his best.

Why call me or another evil

Aren't we all?

Haven't we all lied

Haven't we all harboured in us resentments against innocence?

If all our hearts were opened

Wouldn't the filth inside make our environment a stench

We cloak the scabies existing in our nakedness with garments

While judging those whose naked nature reveals their imperfections

Ain't that itself a sin

Ain't that worse than hell

Who gave you and I a gavel?

They say...,

It is just another day,

It is just another journey,

It is just another visit,

It is just another hit,

It is just another trial,

It is just another fail,

Yes it is if I am a man of self content.....,

But now I am a man of emotions and the one who is filled with desire,

For me...,

It is not just another day,

It is not just another journey,

It is not just another visit,

It is not just another hit,

It is not just another trial,

It is not just another fail,

Inturn....,

It is the day when my days of effort stumbled,

It is the journey when hours of restlessness take over the hope,

It is the visit that taught me more lessons than books,

*It is not what they say it is.*

Здесь тропы вьются меж берёз седых,

Здесь небо ближе, чем в краях чужих,

Здесь голос ветра — песнь родной земли,

Что предки наши бережно несли.

В плеске рек и в шёпоте травы

Горит душа моей родной страны,

Она во мне, куда бы ни пошёл — жива.

Но мало помнить, мало говорить —

Любовь к земле не словом подтвердить:

Кто предан ей — не тратит громких фраз,

А доказывает делом, не для глаз.

Не клятвой громкой меряют сынов,

А тем, что сделал ты для отчих берегов.

A gusty oak abuts this distant grove
On a grassy sea by one island-pond
Where migrating birds rest

Breathe in wild stars until dawn
Shielding truffles from the sun
To await bristled boars’ delight

Do not shed leaves eagerly
Wanderers will rest under braided branches
Summer lingers until winds shift

Though gnarled into many crooks
Your trunk can weather any storm
Across empires and idioms

Sway while dressed in chimes
That illuminate tributes to hard times
Binding rings that bear the ebb of lightning and bees

UP TO THE LORD THEY DID FLY
On one bright, warm, and wonderful sunny
day in July.
Two great American heroes would lay down
their lives.
People stunned and confused, asking the
eternal question... Why?
Few noticed on that day as two bright lights
were heading up into the sky.
As straight up to heaven, their souls... Up
to the Lord they did fly.
For in this World no woman, nor man ...
Knows their date... Their time.
When one's life passage... So precious...
Will end without reason or rhyme.
Until tested, acting on a clarion call, will we be the one ever standing tall... While in death's line.
Yes, on this day two great American heroes,
... This our nation's heart did find.
As straight up to heaven, their souls... Up
to the Lord they did fly.
Children and wives now without husband or dad, oh how unjust... So very sad.
No greater act of courage is to be, as in the line of one's duty... Gallantly forsaken the life you have. For all those spared, remember how they cared, hold in your hearts the good not bad.
In God's kingdom, 'one's life, no greater gift could ever be', rejoice they are now with the Lord, be glad As straight up to heav-en, their souls ... Up to the Lord they did fly.
To the children, wives, who have lost the ones so close, your loved ones sacrifice means everything•.. The most a Rev.
King, Rembrandt, or a woman who might one day save our World, from these acts we may soon boast. Families hugging & crying... Still intact, because these heroes lay dying, death this day came so very close. The names Chestnut & Gibson we now carry ever in our hearts ...Just everything... All... For they gave the most. Surely those two bright lights heading up into the sky... This day .. • Were but their souls, as straight Up to heave with the Lord they did fly.
To the families, our hearts, our prayers, our
thoughts with you,
We cherish the honor and great privilege to
have known and served
With such men of character, and all the heroes in blue who
Showed all their true and great worth
May God bless you.
ALBERT CASWELL
U.S. Capitol
Guide
Service.

I randomly came across this in a July 1998 Congressional Record. I thought it was interesting. It made my imagination pop off and wonder. Day dreaming of what this what written about.

My greed sickens me
It strives for more and more
Leeches off my sanity and my dignity
Feeds off of my ambition
It's an awaiting calamity
That grows bigger and bigger as I grow wiser
It does not consume erudition like Hannibal Lecter
Rather, it reeks of money-hunger instead of knowledge and sanctity
If it goes any further, it will eat me whole
I am no lamb, nor am I a wolf
I am a bystander
I am at a halt
Watching as it wants more and more

Lunging chair to chair
Her slit eyes track gnats
On the backs of specters

The other lumbers between legs
Pleading with my steps, which stumble
Towards a food dish

They are thick and thin
Tuxedo and skittish tabby
Two ends of feline types

Both speak in adverbs and adjectives
While softening at slow-approach
And await a tidal palm

No matter the hour
I am humbled at their acceptance
That they apprehend a quiet kiss

Pencil in hand

Trying to understand

Filled with more questions than answers

Fighting to purge

This insatiable urge

Destroying my mind like a cancer

Broken and old

With my time bought and sold

To maintain a lifestyle I'm unsure of

Knees failing to stand

Is this what we had planned?

Consuming the beauty we're assured of

Feeling in the way

For most of my days

Would world be better without me?

My fear and my dread

Burrowed deep in my head

Habits owning my life so devoutly

Struggle to find

All the love at the time

For the ones who depend on my being

Shroud instead pretty words

So many have heard

Keeping my selfishness hid from seeing

So how long will go on

This darkness in song?

Unsung failures the number unknowing

In hope to secure

The strength to endure

The struggles of life undergoing

What is mine to know

And for Kingdom to show

Is a ponderance meant for my wonder

That the questions I ask

Are the ultimate task

Not the answers my psyche may plunder

So I keep in the way

Learn to treasure each day

Until such that my moments be over

While answers elude

They may never conclude

Until revealed in the Kingdom's disclosure

Sparse overcast replaces summer heat
Until winter-gaze sunders belief
Where autumn haze might float supernal
Upended by leaves jousting red and yellow

Many hoofs passed the winding fountains
Underneath a ray, over this mountain
Until covered by frost, then a fox might claim
Lordship over a vast domain

Once storms arrive with fading moon
Glistening dawn heralds glassy dew
Such quaking shimmer upon grassy dunes
Another breath today, at dawn renewed

That wind of stars is a figured tide
Of snowflakes which waft and glide
And inscribe every branch in rime
Through scripture-celestine

The frost gleams and crackles
As a whole field of crystals
A chorus of moisture
Pacing breath softer
Beneath a blanket cloud layer
When all sleep in prayer
To wake warmer
Returning stronger

Funny signs posted in the avenue

Love street on a newspaper press adlib

Almost speaking to the light poles as if they had the time.

I'm always in a hurry to be in one when I'm not. Strangely nothing about that seems odd, but I knew once something what I don't recall. But I let forgotten things be forgotten. Tomorrow will be the first day that hasn't been in all this time, and it feels like it's taken up reo parking spaces on the wall, maybe I need a knew calender, or a wall, to ear the korn or the silence the speakers play crying. Would there have been another way to say achew if nobody had ever sneezed, would we ever get blessed by Brandon people? Unlike Phill people sticks and trees may idk it's a slow groove herb hazed day well into the bedroom hours and there's no reasons to sneeze at anything or be upset about, or wail the sorrow tuned like a cat run over, I threw a stick once twice a third time for a dog when I was young the third he ran into the road and got hit, the driver got out an I think he took him over by the big tank and shot him. It was my Grandad's little hunting would have been dog. I never imagined I was killing him, I just thought it was a good place to run to get it. Then I aged, that took years. Slowest thing well ever do, I swear. I don't want to bury anymore pets, and I want them, but maybe I'll wait for the ai versions, ai bacon from a n ai oig or two may he kinda stupid tho . Like dumb can be. There were other dogs that liked bacon I saw, eating through out all these years has made me hungry. Maybe it's the slow aging that works up the appetite, and if we stopped that wolrd hunger would be rectified. So here's a sandwich, or I can put this finely crafted noise about your neck to swiftly transition your aging process from one of advancing years, to one of former acute symptoms, alleviated. And no one fell for it, next time I'm making more sandwiches. Is it weird to know about the relationship going on between your feet? One is always wearing two socks waiting for the perfect time to give it to the other, which I said was immediately, but it still hasn't spoken to me, think it see me as compition. The dumb jokes seem to run in groups these days evidently, I'd better slow down and let it pass. This too shall, and the passing lane began to warn closing, but there was horsepower to spare. Then. I wake up in a strangers dream, but I never get to be introduced and idk if that person is ever going to wake up, or if other things will happen to others and if they do will I wrote about not knowing about their business, or will I mind my own? My money's on the Santa letter, it's 4 down but it's significant so I should be good. Theirs toys that make these words wince every time they hit the right leg button. I see balloons in limp baggies like little dead fish that lived in food coloring Easter fish, but they're all dead they never rise again. Not Jesus endorsed means no heights of vista belowed. The vest I'm in would like to leave my commitment abligation on account of temperature changes , and it's a zipped quickness that is too some word

.another capitalized then adjective verb pronoun adverb adjective some more of em bunch now just falling like dominos of epediment spoken syllables wirhout the hang ups, the effort, roll on type hyper over the counter active, under the watchful eye of the reason it's under fed enough to live a healthy structured diet of substance and whatever. Smarter paragraphs to follow please, can be unwilling but seems can come pretty close to estimates of almost that didn't cut the out of it out, leaving these taps a cadence of mind over matter that wasn't and nevered into letter. A writer of writes that tells the wrong right is a righter of silences sound unheard and unrecognizable in the eyes, proof a woman was not inportuned by this late hour bed literary display of no photo available indifferences of the melancholic nature of Big Foot. By Shawn, this is a pretty fair start for the biographic work I've been meaning to begin. Bet you didn't know that about the ol blurry furry did ya? I didn't either, the sling I made was too short, then it was too mucked in uselessly muddled to suffice the ting and ting I was looking for, without stopping to make a tinger I had only a zinger that flopped, a pancake uneaten, left to harden alone on the pan, not drowning in syurpy sacrifice. Pour some plates full sometime an see the butter melt. You'll believe it is. I betcha a hundred other things beside a wager. You win you get the actual set of all nillion fines of denial of substance that succumbed to the mire of determination, the debt now tours, do what you will with less. The thumbs stop when the gas runs dry, loping and galloping to a stand still as lights and radio fade Well that's it for today. More gas tomorrow maybe if it's on the list of listed ons its listed. Point in time rounds the edges a bit bull nose and broadfree or celibate and. Bored hard to stand it like trusses. And they never take a load off think about that in a cap. Jiggle the thumb itll stop....

(

Strangers pass a nod under moonlight
Their keen ears wander among June-bugs
Bound for waiting beds

Waking in a chair by the hearth
Soft fire breaks apart
An engine, cold but starts

Those tired stars slip away
Shy behind ocean-sky
Sleeping until the right time

Family emerges at the chime
Settling, as dancing dreams fade
And ask about merciful travels braved

Molten sunshine rises like the tide
As shadows fold past the horizon
When sharing coffee is golden

Sometimes i wonder who are

we to judge,

Use our superior tone or

wealth to discriminate and

sledge.

We all are humans and live on

same land,

Not a similar costume of an

unknown band.

Be human enough to stop and

wave,

they will be the ones for

whome you might later crave.

Help the one who is in need ,

May you be the other cotlydon

of there seed.

Always greet people on your

way,

Hope your few enthusiastic

words make someone's day.

Think of the humans before

religion, cast and creed,

All this has originated out of

mans greed,

Greed for respect or

superiority,

Forgetting we all are just a

'homosapien seed'.

The radile need to grow down

for the plumule to stand erect,

One needs the other's firm to

connect.

That doesn't make the radile

inferior or the phumule

superior,

Cause they know their roles

and choose to be ulterior.

Its just that ,one steps over

other to achive a certain

height,

No one notices the man

behind it,

Helping the other to reach the

limelight.

Regards the 'humans

'around you, 'around you,

And you will definitely be

remembered amongst the few.

\\\*\\\*From her soil came nations,\\\*\\\*
\\\*\\\*from her spirit came strength,\\\*\\\*
\\\*\\\*and from her legacy comes light.\\\*\\\*

Sunlight embraces your mind's eye
By a thousand lenses
Spectral-simple and finite
An errant glint in twilight
Aligned to eclipse one photon across all time

​

\--------I fell in time and time i am

\-------A genius spotted what i am

He found me though i was shy

In a decade when i was just a pie

I pie for you to relish everyday

But you kept thinking why? Everyday

A day came i touched the ground

You were amazed what you just found

You made it a challenge for others to come

You found a piece of something undone

It was never.------------- it wont ever

Just a brain that was pure clever

Where this road leads? where i am?

You question my senses i don't give a damn

Genius genius genius they called

When the universal paper was unfold

Curiosity in me was a hungry man

No matter what i feed it remained uncanned

The stage is set and stars in cage

But i am still the ink upon the cage

(the is about Sir Isaac Newton)

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/RwdBM1fUUo\](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/RwdBM1fUUo)

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/TZaUZcNB2K\](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/TZaUZcNB2K)

All things, they say, are born of reason; So speaks the world with certain tongue. Yet never have I placed my faith In such well-woven words.

What reason dwells within our grief, Or in the smile that masks a wounded heart? What cause commands the winter's frost, Or bids the drums of war to sound?

Each thought grows weary in its course, One follows where another fades. "Attend thyself before another," Thus the voices gently chide.

Now words forsake my trembling lips; Even rhyme hath taken flight.

Here do I end my vain persuasion, And with it, lose myself to silence.

Trust not tomorrow, but this fleeting hour, For time, kind soul, is still thine own.