The Heerdink-Stepek Cycle

The children in the park running around the trees on the grass all the while collecting odd stones and dried leaves the one raised from the soil by rainfall the other fallen from the spread out branches creating a collage as far as the eye could see. The children took what they needed went home through the wet streets pockets filled with stones and leaves which they'd play with in their back gardens until their bemused parents called them in for dinner. Afterwards, deep into the plot of a book they'd sip their hot chocolate and dream of tomorrow's adventures.

It’s not unlike a poet to plead with others about the importance of trees & nature for humanity’s health all the while collecting skins from earth’s fallen lungs, stamping pages with black ink, & hustling them on the streets so they can have enough cash for another book to read or maybe an overpriced cup of coffee.

All that stuff we threw out has vanished deep into the earth or sunk to the bottom of our seas the world has eaten our rubbish too late perhaps for the perpetrators to enjoy the tidiness. Earth, resplendent from space, filled as always with green life blue and white skies grey green blue seas has scorched and drowned most of humanity out of the picture and every new moment the planet dies and is reborn

We think we can just throw our trash & all we don’t desire onto the face of this earth, clogging her precious waters like years of litter doesn’t equal the incoming death of humanity. This planet’s immune system senses the virus within infecting its outer surface. If nature sees us as a continued threat, there’ll be no choice but to scorch & start anew.

  Joy sparks the Big Bang woe follows boundless fruit, endless sorrows seeds drop into soil children born seeds flourish seeds crushed children die children grow planets die planets are born water and sunlight seeds and children joy sparks woe follows infinite acceptance of infinite change

Joy sparked from the moment of creation brings boundless fruit. A man’s children the seed he gives back to the earth hoping their growth will rejuvenate a once believed dying planet. These seeds watered & left for the coming sun act as insurance for the inevitable woes of tomorrow.

I wonder who wanders so far from home encouraged by whispers no one else hears We tuck ourselves away from such messages Follow only what fills the belly No wonder we weep so easily sensing but not knowing there is nothing that matters but this the moment of creation the very spark of boundless joy

Lost wandering the road for his muse’s encouraging whisper, the poet tucks himself away in a hollow trunk’s belly & begins to weep knowing all too well there is nothing to be created that could match this boundless glory.

H e wished hello to others while digging an endless hole This eased his mental state, separated from his ancestral home and generations of hateful spite. Each mirror there shattered hope of love and reflected nothing but constant hurt so anger rose within as he dug his way out. Never good attention to find a road, the path he trod was rough and ragged; uneven bones crushed underfoot He wished hello to others' fate.