♫ I Belong to a Caribou ...

♫ I Belong to a Caribou
©2013 Marcus James Christian
marcusunlimited

I belong to a caribou.
On occasion I hold a leash,
which connects me to that Reindeer.
The leash is for decoration.

It also serves as protection.
A pet reindeer cannot be harmed.
I want this reindeer to survive,
not forever, but long enough.

My reindeer runs to save its life.
It won't fight unless its provoked.
It is not so different form us.
It breathes air and drinks water too.

♫ 16/320 — "It is very good to hear that your imaginations are open to the unimaginable."

♫ 16/320 —


"It is very good to hear that your imaginations are open to the unimaginable."

These were the words of a new voice which emerged from our midst. I quickly realized that they were spoken by the American Goldfinch which had just arrived amongst us.

"Welcome friend." I replied.

"What brings you here?" my associates inquired.

The bird looked down at the diamond tabletop upon which it paced, which served as its stage temporarily. Then he spoke: "I wish I could respond in elaborate detail; however, I have only part of my memories in tact at the moment. Yet, I know I am here to request guidance from you, and your associates."

The outstretched wing of the American Goldfinch gestured towards a direction west of our then current position. Its focused feather seemed almost more like a pointing finger, than a feather, as it squinted one eye and said: "It is . . . there, to which I must attend. Will you assist me? Can you help me get from here to there—in time?"

♫ 14/320 — Often, after one gives oneself space to receive, there comes an opportunity to give.

♫ 14/320 —

Often, after one gives oneself space to receive, there comes an opportunity to give. The arriving opportunities after such space are free of burdensome feelings and instead present themselves as gilded marking instruments might appear to the desiring hands of an inspired writer, illustrator or composer.

As all of us—certainly including our friends—the caribou, encircled the central diamond. Shadows began to flicker upon its table like surface. The immense form of the shadow suggested for a moment that perhaps the source which cast it was of tremendous volume. However, as the flickering shadow shrank, so did the imagined immensity of that which cast its diamond darkening silhouette. To our surprise, it was a small bird descending through the open top orifice in the high center of the mountain enclosing us. It was of a type which seemed geographically out of place. Our artistic interest in ornithological studies had given us a bit of knowledge on various feathered forms. Our surprise visitor was undoubtedly an American Goldfinch, who was beautifully out of place in lands so far Northeasterly from America as this estate bound, limitless mountain was.

♫ 10/320 — We drew closer and closer to the great mountain ...

♫ 10/320 —

We drew closer and closer to the great mountain on the Northeastern edge of the property. The estate grounds were alive—I was convinced of that. The nearer we drew to the mountain, the larger it grew in all directions. As the caribou drew closer to the mountain their pace quickened. Enthusiasm emanated from the galloping herbivores and suddenly the sound of one waterfall chorused with another, and another, and another.

The wonder of the mountain sang forth in its full astonishing and miraculous nature through the billowing mists of cataracts which wept down its side faces. Into the lovely, lush, billowing mist our friends galloped gleefully. Moments into the caribous waltz into the mist of the mountain's descending cataracts, we could no longer see them, we could only hear them.

Sing! Oh Ye Sweet Thoughts of Souls in Meditation: For this Journal is a Voice Recorder.

Sing! Oh Ye Sweet Thoughts of Souls in Meditation: For this Journal is a Voice Recorder.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.


Sing! Oh ye sweet thoughts of souls in meditation.
For this journal is a voice recorder.

Which to some degree captures those visionary vocalizations,
which on occasion might exceed enharmonic compliance.

For those elaborate arias which evolve within a clear mind
For those moments—such as these—which create their own compositions,
beyond the box of communicable musical interpretation,
here, they are set down to be shared.

Here within this sparkling blue cavern—amongst the caribou,
we find natural design has carved a table and chairs for us, long ago.

Now these ideas which come to us here are miraculous,
and I could swear—if I swore—that I can see the caribou smiling.

We could offer to them some of our tea.
Yet, I think they are quite content,
as nature presents to them on its grand table,
a diet described in Genesis 1:29.

One to which I subscribe to—and have been infinitely rewarded for doing so as well.
 

The Fair Horned Caribou March in Allegiance. Lyrics, libretto, a poem.

The Fair Horned Caribou March in Allegiance
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

The fair horned caribou march in allegiance.
With a direction of purpose they ascend towards the Northeast.
They send friendly nods our way.

Somehow, from their herbivorian chatter,
we ascertain an invitation:

 "To the caverns, to the caves!" 

say the caribou.

Are there caves and caverns on this, our recently acquired estate?
Its grounds are grand, for certain, yet ... caves, caverns?

Overlooking the caribou - from a raised set of small hills, we tag along.
The caribou have made us adopted members of their exodus,
to the caves, to the caverns.

From several angles the entrances cannot be seen.
Yet,  the caribou know - and with them, we go:

Into a chamber within the great stone,
its innards shine of sparkling blue light.
For it is rich with gems and cataracts of pure, fresh, water.

{pura aqua dulci}

Early the Caribou Rise to the Song of a New Days Sun, a Guided Meditation, a Poem.

Early the Caribou Rise to the Song of a New Days Sun.
A guided meditation, a poem.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Early the caribou rise to the song of a new days sun.
Up to a grand window we walk to witness the scene.
The birds provide a variety of musical sounds,
some of their songs are new and some are old favorites.

Down in our castles keep, there is a shining repository.
It is fun to look upon our collection of treasures.
The path of the caribou suggests their travels lean towards a lovely lake.

We temporarily leave our fulfilling work upon the table,
and ride quietly alongside the caribou collective.

The grand lake comes into view,
it is only partially frozen.
Slow floes in the distance cause audible cracks in the ice.
The thin tops of the lake's far center fail and then reform, infinitely.

Although our excursion is extravagant, it is well within our means.
The caribou welcome our company, and kinship.

Singing From the Down Center of a Frosted Ravine, an Opera Meditation, a Poem

Singing from the Down Center of a Frosted Ravine
an Opera Meditation, a Poem.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited

Singing from the down center of a frosted ravine,

the call of a fatherly caribou howls. ) ))

^ Up it rises until its immense sound shakes snow from small bent branches.
 Birds spin out in a flight of response.
Clouds glide over the stage consistently,

moving Northeast against the progression of the caribou.

You are an audience to this from a castle balcony.

Its warm interiors are just a few safe footsteps away.
You, ________, have accumulated great wealth,
the kind which affords you this and many other luxuries,
such as magical sleighs which get you here,

there,

and anywhere you wish to go.

Your cupboards bear the weight of the finest, slaughter-free-foods.

as the caribou pass joyously through the grand gardens of one of your great castles.

You Can Hear a Choir of Caribou - If You Listen Closely, a Free Verse Poem

You Can Hear a Choir of Caribou - If You Listen Closely
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

You can hear a choir of caribou - if you listen closely.
Hear them crossing a snow covered stage.
Their rhythmic chatter is a complex opera,
which only a cultured audience could understand.

Caribou One

All of the Arctic airs listen.
Each singular moment of their performance seems especially spacious.
The sun is a faithful follow spot,
laying its light upon the harmless herd.

A diverse audience overlooks the herbivores.
This audience consists of men, women, boys and girls.
These wise spectators look on from afar.

Not too far, but far enough to see the herd as one,
and the hills as one,
and the snow, and the silent spectators - as one.

POEM: As Arctic Airs Sing through Northern Lands

As Arctic Airs Sing through Northern Lands

©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

As Arctic airs sing through Northern lands,

there presides over that domain, the kind Caribou.

In this journey you are ushered to the lands of the high snow safely,

and you may select any cotton coat you so choose.

As your preferred level of warmth envelopes you,

you are welcomed by the eyes of the gentle creatures.

The best beast free boots are yours for the wearing.

Into a trot, they go.

The caribou disappear over a frosted hill,

just before reappearing upon your path.

Now the reigns of a sleigh are upon them,

and they are jovial about the kind pilots who will guide them.

The sleigh stops and we step aboard, as the caribou pause patiently.

What new rhythms will be shaken forth from shimmering sleigh bells as we ride?