ILLUSIONS OF EXISTENCE

We sail on the waves
of a particle sea,
mathematical shadows.

Here thing and nothing,
lose their contradiction
and dance a Heisenberg waltz,
the uncertainty of all we know as certain
masked.

Atoms
each a tree falling in the forest of matter
non reality
surges of probability, endlessly rolling
not yet knowing their time and space

until
sentient glance reveals
something resembling
the illusions of our existence

© David Cale

1Bestbrysonfogbridge

MORNING MIST

In the morning of our day
a mist shrouds our sight

In the heat of day
often in seeing too far
find we can not bear
the knowing or being known

In the dusk of our day
we consume the long looking back
and yearn for the mist of the morning
to ease our pain

In the night of our day
we wonder at the stars

©David Cale

CanadaBest PhotosSunrise1Besttonaladj

A Buddhist Thought

Best Photos1Bestmisttreeecard

Deja Vu All Over Again

Am I a cosmic dream?

Looking out is effortless
inward vision is another matter
because in my warrens of neurons
echos my lost child’s wail

Searching I stumble
down blind corridors
and row upon row of locked doors

What lies behind them?
Vestiges of past lives lived
or memories etched in DNA?

Simultaneous realities
both known and not
familiar as Schrodinger’s cat
half dead, half alive
and like me
frozen for fear of lookingNow water - I am
nine tenths submerged
in the quantum sea’s
imaginary waves

Old memories drift like fog
become dim and
melt at the edges
and too soon I am absorbed
into the ocean
of all the dreams dreamed

Deja vu all over again

©David Cale

I took this photo one misty morning at a retreat center in Maryland USA called Rising Phoenix.

1Bestsunriserishingphoenix

DESPERATION TO KNOW

Knowledge
the antithesis of answers
a child of doubt, stillborn

Still searching I glimpse half seen
truths like frightened doves
taking flight.

In desperation
I lunge to confine them
in my grasp

But find that all I have
are only a few small
feathers of wisdom.

© David Cale

Algonquin Provincial Park Ontario during an early morning fog.

1Best

Stepping off the mountain summit I fall into the wild wind's world
my body, bent, flung forward, blinded,
is cast down from the heights, rough over winter's white waves

The wind's wanton wail wraps me, steals my breath, shakes my soul
shear ecstasy in the soaring power of nature unleashed in
this blinding blizzard hurling me down the canyons gape

Then from above faint against the tumult, a cry, wind ripped, wild as any storm
a great eagle riding high, defiant, riding rippled wings
oh my heart sings, to see, this glory of the sky, valour and joy flying high
immersed in; part of the tempest

My tears come, at hearing her clarion, cry caught high and flung defiant into the heavens
her spirit soaring above those that plod on this earth, she calls me out
and I make one request to her, one request to grant me this same soaring spirit for my final flight
so that I too can ascend with courage to the heavens, with this same raptors rapturous song
when my last storm rages, taking me into the night

1Bestwhistlermystery

SAILING THE TECTONIC SEAS by David Cale

The mountain rears magnificent
a titanic ship’s prow
cuts through countless dawns
sun warmed, storm wracked
mute testimony
to tectonic brooding
of the planet below our feet

I am tempted to feel small

But a mountain is just a mountain
not a comment on me

© David Cale

Mont Aguille 58 km south of Grenoble France.

Franceaiguille

Some Hidden Glory

There is beyond our grasp
some great glory
radiant with mystery
its source hidden
from mortal eyes

That joy beyond perception
beckons our souls
brings hope to our lives
even as we struggle to climb
on wounded limbs
with blinded eyes
towards that which we can not know
until
our time is full
©David Cale


The photograph was taken at about 1am in depths of The
Abbey de Mont St Michel in Brittany France. I sat entranced for a very long time.
See http://wikitravel.org/en/Mont_Saint_Michel

Best PhotosFrance AllMont St. Michelglory

FLEE THE COLD STEEL MOMENT

Haunted by memories cast in gun metal
we flee as children do
innocent, hoping to bury ourselves
in maternal arms, wife's embrace
The cold steel moment still haunts
and even in those soft arms
we feel the chill of heat stolen
from our back and know the menace
still lives in the dark places of the heart.

We glance back and find our worst fears
War does not end
it pauses,
rearms with fresh fanaticism
fed by illusions of outrage
done to us by them, until
it bursts from frozen memories
encased in steel
and burns cities and children again.

©David Cale 2011

This is the WW1 Dououmont Ossuary in Verdun France

During the 300 days of the Battle of Verdun (21 February 1916–19 December 1916) approximately 230,000 men died out of a total of 700,000 casualties (dead, wounded and missing). The battle became known in German as Die Hölle von Verdun (English: The Hell of Verdun), or in French as L'Enfer de Verdun, and was conducted on a battlefield covering less than twenty square kilometers.
The ossuary is a memorial containing the remains of both French and German soldiers who died on the Verdun battlefield. Through small outside windows, the skeletal remains of at least 130,000 unidentified combattants of both nations can be seen filling up alcoves at the lower edge of the building. Out front are 16,142 graves, Some face East and are not crosses as they were Muslims finally allowed to fight for France as France was running out of men. (Partially from Wikipedia)

1Best007ossuarycrosses

ILLUSIONS OF EXISTENCE

We sail on the waves
of a particle sea,
mathematical shadows.

Here thing and nothing,
lose their contradiction
and dance a Heisenberg waltz,
the uncertainty of all we know as certain
masked.

Atoms
each a tree falling in the forest of matter
non reality
surges of probability, endlessly rolling
not yet knowing their time and space

until
sentient glance reveals
something resembling
the illusions of our existence.

©David Cale

Taken at the Tropicana Night Club in Cuba.

1Bestredhazetropicana

The Unknowing

THE UNKNOWING

In the morning of our day
a mist enshrouds our passage
our vision of time to come is lost in
in the fog that clouds our minds

In the heat of our day we often see too far
and in seeing can not bear
the knowing or the being known
so cast aside
that which reminds us of
our failures
looking for those who
will happily
feed our narcissism

In the dusk of our day
we are consumed
the long looking back
on what we lost,
and still wish for
and so we yearn
for the mist of the morning
to ease our pain,
of our shame
and let us slide silently over the still waters
towards the horizon of our lives

In the night of our day
we wonder at the stars.

©David Cale

Taken somewhere near the Blue Ridge Parkway as looked for a Motel having been soaked by a day of rain on a motorcycle trip.

USAAmericaimagesofthejourneyimagesjourneywondertraveloddweirdwonderfullet's goRTWDavid CaleImages Of The JourneyWaterlooU of W

The Blinding (Sept 11,2001)

New York
seat of wealth and power
Washington
seat of might and rule

Like Lear you sat not knowing
that the blasted heath
and the vicious blinding
would fly unbidden

Twin towers of the west
illusions of a kingdom now fallen
leaving as the new centre of our lives
an empty wilderness of the soul

And from under the desolation
we can just hear the king’s wail
a millennium old
yet still echoing in storms such as these

“Let the great gods... Find their enemies now. Tremble, wretch,
That has within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipped of justice.
I am more sinned against than sinning.”

Here the kings and servants of commerce were slain
Those who worshipped and trusted in
the gods of wealth and power
and felt invulnerable in their fortress
The other gods look down
some cry - some laugh

The CNN anchor intones

“Poor naked wretches, where ever you are,
in this pitiless storm,
How shall our houseless heads..., defend you
From seasons such as these?

O, we have taken too little care of this!”

Behind him
faces of those who ‘spent’ their lives
delivering their hate spawned by fanatic belief
brief meaning found in the free trading of
eyes for eyes
blind faith for blind faith

And so we sit in our walled up countries
the barbarian at the gate
fear in our gut feeding the hate in our hearts
transfixed by the image
terrified that our world we thought we knew
has collapsed in ruin
leaving only rubble beneath our feet

We wonder if the poison pen
has touched our unopened mail

And we howl as Lear over his daughter's body
dead from his blind folly
“Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life....
And these no breath at all?
They will come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!”

©David Cale

Quotes are from William Shakespeare’s play “King Lear”

LibertyBlindingKing Lear911Sept 11 2001

At The Edge Of Wonder

The sunset of the day
lengthens the shadows of
our knowing
I turn and seek your warmth
and the reassurance
of another morning
But you know, as I
that the promise of
tomorrow is found
not in any certainty of waking
but in the cycle of earth
and the nuclear hearth
that warms us
So we sleep in hope
and are grateful for each
new dawning

©David Cale

reflectionmountainslakeclearwatercalendarsexShadowflyalaskaimagejourneyaerialontarioCanadaancientlandscapewondersunsunrisesunsetallfallcolorsautumnpeacevacationprizesaleBestAlaskan Cruise TripBest Photos1Bestcontrail

One morning a few autumns ago my pilot friend Jim, bundled a bleary eyed photographer, into a small chilly single engine plane. It was misty cold morning towards the end of October. We took off, just as dawn broke and by the time we were 500 feet in the air I was no longer sleepy, I was enthralled. Below me was were the farmlands and hills of Southern Ontario painted with the colours of fall and wrapped here and there in a mist filled with long shadows cast by the rising sun.

The view was breathtaking, and I captured many photographs in the next hour and a half that are the best I have ever taken.

Here in a small valley, in the Caledon Hills, the fog, illuminated by the low sun gave a modern cluster of building a mysterious look, as if we were looking down into an ancient landscape, from hundred of years in the past.

We watched in awe as the sun broke the horizon painting the morning mist golden pouring its radiance over fields and through autumn’s painted trees gently waking the land still wrapped in the wisps of last nights dreams

autumnaerial photosouthern OntarioCaledonground fogdawnfall colorsnaturelandscape

The rising sun makes mystery of what is hidden
by the cocoon of fog that enfolds the land
until

it's fire burns its way into another Autumn day

©David Cale

1Bestmorningflightsilowhiter

Below me autumn blazed
Each tree declaring
I will not go
into that
darkness of winter
without
first declaring
that beauty triumphs
over death
and the spring
will come again

© David Cale

Mono Cliffs Ontario from a 4 seater single engine airplane.

crevasseNiagaraescapementMono Cliffs

Cancal Pier at Night in the fog

davidcaledavidcaleimagesjourneyphotowriterfranceoysterscancalehuitreswondertravelwowahaoddwhatdavid caledecor

That Night By The Lake

In the lake room
you lay beside me in the darkness
naked but unknown
savouring the warmth of the rock
faintly warm with the memory of the day's heat

From off the lake a chill night breeze licked along our skin
its unseen tongue an intimate caress,
I heard your breath catch as if touched by some electric fire
its arc igniting something deep inside

It was then you turned to me
yours body's phosphorescent hiss
more felt than seen,
drew me
and you wrapped me in yourself the rough arousal of your skin
greedy, for my bodies heat

Overhead a billion stars
were our canopy
of cold fire

©David Cale

Taken from my canoe in Algonquin Provincial Park Ontario Canada.

treerockspit

Wild Loon

BELIEFS ARE SO SEDUCTIVE

Shards of memory pierce me

broken pieces of the moon’s crystal sphere

shattered by the terrifying irresistable truth of new

understanding

crushing our old ways, cherished for the certitude they proclaimed

thus breaking my precious heart, of I who truly believed

I awake as from a dream, only it was not

leaving me living

in the fractured landscape of my life

torn by shattered illusions

Our history only tells us what we wanted to believe

I drive through unconscious streets

that know not what they do

and wince at the thought

of my home and the pain

that lives there, alone

Was it not love that was to save me?

Now I lie at night,

a hollow man in a hollow room

haunted by those memories of belief

that seemed so real

Only madness lies

in clinging to those

lies I and others invented

and yet I feel the moon's pull

It is then I remember

that only in the trees by the lake,

or the mountains bracing the earth's edges

or the oceans so filled with mystery

that I can feel hope

So I thrust my hand deep into the water and

grasp the rock that pins the lake’s edge to the earth.



So to save this empty man from the moon's tidal force

But even then

I howl in futility at that orb to save me

I see that I draw near to that point of no return, and my doom



So in desperation, lacking any firm belief,

I begin to I beg the Loons, for their wild compassion

As they know far better than I how to cut my mortal bonds

with their haunting cries honed each night

razor sharp to free us, me, stunned, and broken hearted,

injured by my desperate grasping at illusions

of forever

Yet am I too blinded by my stubborn ideologies to let them save me, in the end?

Link to loon call http://youtu.be/4ENNzjy8QjU?hd=1

wild lifeLoonwaterAlgonquinOntarioCanadacanoenaturetreerockfine artslideshow

moondreams

In the dark
where edge and being meet
float visions
past lives or neuron dreams

illusions of who we were
or are

Here at perception's nervous end
images, stars and grids on
blind night eyes,
with eyelids closed
but revealing a mad thrashing of eyes



Sotto voce, heard by no ear
comes the calling of ourselves
by ourselves and sometimes seductive
whispers
voices of phantom lovers
who were or longed to be


Startling,
we being the fall out of sleep
and when we turn to look
are surprised,
to find the longing
we always thought
would be fulfilled beckoning
us back

We sense the electric breeze on our skin
the arc of static fire
the smell, the taste
found only
in the darkest yearnings of the night

becoming surreal
untouchable
Evaporating
in the amnesia of waking
and the tears of reality.

©David Cale

Taken near Shelborn Ontario. In memory of the wife who divorced me and who I still love.

hai

Divorce

no more need be said

Prince Ed County Aug 2007flames

2008rochesterbeach0038

Andromeda's SONG

I walked under November branches
with Andromeda singing her song
two million years on it way
to this night

As with the ancient histories of her stars.
I too walked towards life not yet lived
unaware of what time and space
will bring.

Even now as I reach out towards the future
or grasp at my trailing past

They elude my every effort to touch them

That which will be, is not yet,
and may never be
and that which was
has turned to to impenetrable stone.

Leaving now as all there really is.

©David Cale

I took this photo with my camera (Nikon D500) from near the Mauna Kea Observatories in Hawaii where some of the finest telescopes in the world operate. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mauna_Kea_Observatory

RTW

Falling Out

FALLING OUT Far from a city's lights I lay under the northern night sky and stared up into star strewn blackness, It was then I felt my mind fall into this vastness that created me. And were it not for the warp and weave of space and time plastering my body against this dust mote of dust motes, this earth..... my home..... Oh, I would have followed ©David Cale I took this photograph of our Milky Way Galaxy from the top of one of the volcanoes on the Big Island of Hawaii near the cluster of telescopes built there. They are here at 4500 m as this is the best place for a research telescope next to being in orbit. Clear clear skies, almost no light pollution and stable air make for skies that take your breath away... particularly at 4500 m. :)

universeMilky Waycreatedspacewonder

Craving Water Lying together bed clothes reveal a valley between mountains of illusions thought true. Leaning to kiss, dust puffs faintly from parched faces. I yearn to drink even a blue desert sky’s unpromising clouds A wind of years is blowing. Memories ragged lost over the horizon Reaching out to grasp the ephemeral haze I find only a dandelion’s grey ash scattered in that dry wind of days. © David Cale Namibia desert remembering the pain of my wife's leaving.