March 2026 – Image & Verse

Walking In Paradise…

Original DDE™ art: “Spirit Soars” — by: rob kistner © 3/30/26

—-<§>—-

the trail begins softly
as if it has been
awaiting my footsteps

spring breath rises
damp
green
alive

each step settling
into a rhythm
older than thought

around lost lake
the ancient forest
does not surround—
it receives

douglas fir—
massive
quiet cathedrals—
lifting—
beyond comprehension

…western hemlock
…red cedar
weaving shadow
and fragrance
into air
you can almost hold

light falls in patient beams
touching fern
…moss
…bark
…and water

everything alive with time
…not years
…not decades—
but centuries

you walk without urgency

the forest opens
sudden—
holding mount hood—
reflecting immaculate
in the crystal mountain lake

like a memory
that has always been

wind brushes the surface
the image shimmers

not lost
just gently changing

a beautiful hot air balloon
drifts silently into view—
light as my spirit

no need to reach
for meaning—
not here

it rises
on its own
steady as breath

you feel it—
…in your chest
…in your shoulders easing
…in the quiet widening
of your thoughts

this place does not take
it holds—

and somewhere
in that holding
you understand

my life
is not an ending
but a continuation
of time eternal

like this forest—
an unfolding
…vast
…rooted
…enduring

a becoming
that belongs

this is where
my ashes
will return
when my journey ends

…but not yet
…not this day

there was a turning once
a near crossing—
and then…
back

so it is here
in this paradise—
in this joy…
…in this circle game
I will wait

until…
my new trail unfolds

cedar breath
and mountain light—
embracing stillness—
they wait with me

Original DDE™ art: ”Glorious’” by: rob kistner © 3/30/26

<~>

rob kistner © 03/30/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Tea Time

Original DDE™ art: “Tea Time” — by: rob kistner © 3/30/26

—-<§>—-

The red brick path bends in on itself, as if unsure whether it is coming or going. Early spring has loosed the fragrance of soil, and the air carries that electric restlessness—the quiet insistence that something is about to begin. I pause near a thicket of tangled brush where the wind seems to chatter without language. A cup of light spills through the branches, trembles, then disappears. Time feels quite unreliable here. Not broken—just… playful.

This morning had arrived a little sideways, as though it forgot its lines and decided to improvise. The light now comes in uneven bursts, slipping through branches, retreating, returning again—nothing steady, nothing promised. I find a weathered bench where moss has claimed its quiet territory, and sit as if invited. There’s a peculiar expectancy in the air, like a conversation already in progress just beyond hearing.

There is a sense of being hurried along, though nothing pursues me. A flicker at the edge of vision—quick, alert, amused—then gone. I almost laugh, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s the season itself, slightly unhinged, shrugging off winter with a grin too wide to explain.

Here time seems to circle rather than pass. Again, a sudden rustle nearby, a darting presence—half seen, wholly hare. I check my watch, then I do laugh. Silly me — time offers no authority here.

month of March gone mad
a laugh’s caught in the hedgerow
time’s forgot its shape

Original DDE™ art: ”Hustlin’ Hare” by: rob kistner © 3/30/26

<~>

rob kistner © 03/30/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Parkour Paradise

Original DDE™ art: “Parkour Paradise” — by: rob kistner © 3/28/26

—-<§>—-

morning light
cuts the water
into sterling planes

the course waits
without mercy—
…simple shapes
…impossible distances

salt wind off the pacific
insistent
as if to push me inland—

but the line runs forward—
…over stone
…timber
…and air

I know the way
I know the challenge—
we both do

head up
eyes scanning ahead—
striding forward
I follow it

each movement
an intuitive decision
no room for doubt—
no room for hesitation

hands grasp cold surface
toes secure traction
legs coil and release
timing holds everything together

below
the tide pounds steady
but I am movement—
…again
…again
…still again

fatigue gathers
shoulders tighten
breath rages
edges blur
distance stretches

still
I commit—
over and over
I commit

because somewhere
between fear and flow
there is a narrow crossing—
and I am on it

hands sting
calves burn
lungs scrape for air
yet rhythm builds
a fragile thread
of certainty
keeps my momentum—
…fast
…forward
…fearless

when finally I stop
the world keeps surging—
but inside
something has centered
coming to rest — deeply

not victory
but alignment

peace

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ” Mooovin’ ” by: rob kistner © 3/28/26

<~>

rob kistner © 03/26/26

Poetry at: dVerse

A Stroke Of Freedom

Original DDE™ art: “Lost In Thought” — by: rob kistner © 3/26/26

—-<§>—-

my canoe glides forward
as if it knows the way
better than I do

the movement felt
is forward

the stream
laps hushed
lifting and carrying—
cradling my hull

no engine
no urgency
just the quiet agreement
between water and wood

each stroke
a soft answer—
to something
I did not know
I was asking

wind wafts through the trees
like a long breath of life—
like memory stirring

leaves shimmer—
whispering
words of the soul

a single bird calls—
an answer echoes
soft on the water
…the stream stretches on
toward discovery—
unfolding the unknown

gentle sunlight
rests on my shoulders—
…warm
…alive
as if it has chosen me

and here
with no witness
save for sky and river—
my thoughts loosen—
drift with the current
…light
…buoyant
…easy
my mind untangles
enough to wander

I am not arriving
anywhere
I am not leaving

I am simply being—
…here
…afloat in wilderness
…free of manmade trappings—
of faux affectations
…free of opinions

this
must be freedom—

my spirit ascends

<~>

rob kistner © 03/26/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Sunset Bell

Original DDE™ art: “Sunset Bell” — by: rob kistner © 3/24/26

—-<§>—-

beneath the surface
an energy gathers quietly—
…not heavy
…not dark
but full—
as if something is waiting
to become something else

we move through it unaware
thinking at depth
one finds only stillness—
an absolute silence…
when it is in reality
a slow preparation

then—
suddenly—
without warning—
a profound shift

not upward
not outward
but through—

what held us
loosens—
what defined us
evolves—

in that precise moment
energy rises—
…unbridled
…uncontained
…as if we have remembered
how to be motion itself—
momentum incarnate—

somewhere beyond
this moment of transformation
a bell is said to sound—y
the Sunset Bell—
calling forth
across a distance
no living ear can reach

and yet
something in us mortals turns
as though we sense it—
as though we know it waits—
as though we almost hear it

not fear
not loss

only curiosity

as if death
was never an ending—
but the doorway
to becoming light

pure living energy—
set free
in another realm

<~>

rob kistner © 03/24/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Creamy Comfort

Original DDE™ art: “Creamy Comfort” — by: rob kistner © 3/24/26

—-<§>—-

ice cream arrives
not as dessert
but as permission

a small collapsing tower
of sweetness
and surrender—
cradled briefly
in glass

helplessly drawn
we lean toward it
as if toward memory…
as if something in us
recognizes the moment
is fleeting—

so we embrace it
before it disappears

the sweetest chill
on tip of tongue
…then bloom
…then softness
…then surrender
…then exhilaration—
then gone

and yet
what lingers
is not just taste
but the escape—
the easing—
the gentle undoing

the undoing
of the weight
we carried
into that day

it does not solve anything—
it does not need to…
it simply reminds us
…the taste of love is sweet

…that there are still places
…moments
where brilliant joy
explodes—
captures us completely—
then melts slowly away

and that is
perfectly enough

<~>

To die for…

<~>

rob kistner © 03/24/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Sky Ship

Original DDE™ art: “Sky Ship” — by: rob kistner © 3/23/26

—-<§>—-

we do not rise…
the earth
simply releases us

ropes fall slack
hands loosen
gravity forgets our name
flame takes the helm —
and suddenly…

we are a thought
the sky decides to keep

below us
the cliffs break open
into wonder and memory

the ocean
thunders without asking

and we
drift —
…not forward
…not back
but into…

into a silence
so deep
so complete
it feels like transcendence

the burner speaks
in brief flames
then disappears again —
as if even fire
respects this height

you do not steer here
you listen —

…to currents you cannot see
…to distances
that have no edges
…to a wind
that has never belonged to you

and yet
it carries you
as if it always has

I look down —
the world is still there
but it has let go of me —
set me free —
…free to soar
…free to fly
…free to — ‘be’
a freedom absolute

I look up
and gasp…

there is no up

only a perfect —
beyond

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ”Sky Ship II” by: rob kistner © 3/23/26

<~>

rob kistner © 03/26/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Surrender To Joy

Sometimes only our spirit speaks…

Original DDE™ art: “Surrender To Joy” — by: rob kistner © 3/23/26

—-<§>—-

there’s a moment
when height becomes feeling
and feeling becomes flight

the heart
loosens its gravity
thread by thread
until wonder takes over
completely

unexpecting
unafraid

we are carried
not by the hissing flame
but by surrender

inside this great silence
joy turns luminous

<~>

rob kistner © 03/23/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Untamed

Original DDE™ art: “Untamed” — by: rob kistner © 3/21/26

—-<§>—-

she does not enter a room—
she arrives
the way a tiger
steps from shadow—

…unannounced
…wild
…untamed—
already sovereign

a quiet in her movement
slippin’ through air—
the world leans back
making room for her advance

her beauty is not soft
it is radiant
striped with intent—

…long
…taut
…svelte—
sinew beneath silk

eyes that measure distance
knowing it can be crossed—
at her will

you do not look at her—
you feel watched…
as though some ancient instinct
stirs in her blood

she is grace… yes—
the grace of the huntress—
balance held
on a single breath
before the leap—

…poised
…coiled
…waiting

wild lives in her
unbroken—
not tamed into sweetness
but honed into something—
something seductive

…mesmerizing
…fierce
…luminous

and when she turns
it is with the certainty
of a beautiful creature
that has never needed permission
to be magnificent

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ”Huntress” by: rob kistner © 3/21/26I

<~>

rob kistner © 03/19/26

Poetry at dVerse

Undaunted

Original DDE™ art: “Undaunted” — by: rob kistner © 3/19/26

—-<§>—-

rivers cut deep through mountain and memory
oregon skies stretch wide — vast with promise
birds bring sunrise with their morning song

keeping watch — forests stand ever vigilant
in every branch — safe refuge for fur’n’fowl
stoney coast of cliffs and coves rises majestic
trees bend in defiance — but do not surrender

nature doesn’t just survive — it boldly thrives
every season teaches its lesson without apology
roots run deep in this wonderful wild wonderland

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ”Basalt Gems” by: rob kistner © 3/19/26

<~>

rob kistner © 03/19/26

Poetry at dVerse

Unseen

Original DDE™ art: “More Than The Eye…” — by: rob kistner © 3/17/26

—-<§>—-

There was a mason in County Kerry who trusted the nature of stone, believing it settled where it meant to, given patience and a steady hand. He had built walls that held against wind, rain, and the slow persuasion of time, and he took a quiet pride in their staying.

Yet one piece refused him—not boldly, not enough to accuse—but by the smallest measure, a drift no eye could ignore once seen. It was a modest stone, unremarkable in shape or color, the sort a man might place without a second thought.

Each morning it had shifted, as if leaning in the night toward some older intention buried beneath the field. No mark of hand or weather explained it. Only that it would not quite agree.

He marked it with chalk, then scored it lightly with his chisel, thinking to catch it in the act of moving or prove himself mistaken. But the marks remained, and still the stone took its quiet liberty.

At times he thought to remove it altogether, yet something in him resisted, as though the wall itself would notice the absence. So he turned it, set it deeper, pressed it firm with all the knowledge he possessed. Still, by morning, it had chosen otherwise.

At last he left it as it lay, a flaw by craft, but a truth of another kind. And though the wall stood clean and certain to all who passed, he alone felt a hesitation in it—like a sentence that had been spoken correctly, but not honestly.

Years later, when the land was measured again and older boundaries brought to light, it was found that the wall held true in every place but one. And there, just slightly out of line, the stone had kept its own counsel all along. It had been the coner stone for the old wall…

…there’s a line that no mason can see
though he measures as true as can be
for the stone set askew
knows a boundary more true—
so rests where it’s chosen to be

<~>

Poetry at: dVerse

Subterranian

—-<§>—-

yes it’s true
I went away
no tears my love
I’m back today

I will likely leave again
not sure how
don’t know when

to ride this river— life
I will know joy
I’ll too know strife

with my eyes
fixed on the morning star
I fear I’ve drifted
a bit too far

there was supposed to be
a quiet ending
somewhere back there—
a special place
where this river narrowed
and slipped underground

I remember passing it—
or perhaps
it passed me

since then
life has felt slightly unreal—
like walking through a dream
after the alarm rings

the world remains
astonishingly ordinary

coffee steams in the morning…
clouds sliding past the moon…
wind nudging the branches
into slow conversation

my body has grown heavy
with memories—
good and bad—
with the long stories of time

fatige sits beside me
like an old companion

pain speaks sometimes
in low persistent syllables

yet breath continues—
patient…
rhythmic…
faithful as the tide…
sometimes not so

I watch the warm sun
return again
over rooftops—
over distant mountains

it seems unconcerned
with predictions—
with my plight

light pours itself freely
across another day—
and still another

as I sit here—
beyond the place
where my ledger first closed—
feeling less like a survivor
than a witness—

someone invited unexpectedly
to remain in the theater
after the curtain fell

watching the empty stage
fill with morning once more—
listening quietly
for my sunset bell

<~>

Poetry at dVerse

Waiting

Be careful what we wish for…

—-<§>—-

The therapies worked. Cells renewed themselves. Organs regenerated. Memory backups lived in quiet servers beneath mountains. People stopped dying the way people once had. Time stretched outward like an endless road disappearing into desert heat.

But Elias had begun to notice something. Immortality did not feel like forever. It felt like waiting. Waiting for meaning. Waiting for the next century to feel different from the last.

He walked every morning along the ocean, watching waves repeat their ancient labor. The tide did not worry about forever. It simply arrived. Children still played in the surf, shrieking at cold water. Lovers still leaned against the railing, speaking softly as dusk gathered.

Life, he realized, had not changed. Only the fear disapated. The great human project had been to defeat ‘scary’ death. But no one had solved the quieter problem that followed. What to do with eternity.

Perhaps forever had never been the point. Perhaps the secret was what the waves had always known: that living—truly living—was not about escaping the end. It was about filling the moment so completely that forever was no longer required. He always thought eternity was the sacred goal. What fools we humans have been

Elias picked up his journal and began writing. “Happiness — it all belies our existence; we wait, and are still denied.”

<~>

There can be moments of joy, even exhilaration. But a true, deep, ever abiding happiness — we aren’t wired that way. All the science in this mortal world won’t change that. Go instead, for peace of mind!

<~>

Poetry at: dVerse