The Journey of the Spirit is a collection of poetry and artwork by A J Lewis. It is a striking translation of the connection that we all share with the Earth. Each poem is a journey into the spirit, and the artwork is a captured moment of this journey. The sun will rise and set in this book; clouds will form and reform; rain will break through the sky and the wind will pass through the trees; and as you read this book, you will be taken through the author’s life and your own. A J Lewis has brought forth his imagination and has let the Earth around him touch his most inner workings, and as you will find out, the Earth around you is not so far off after all.
99 pages, 6″ x 9″, perfect binding, white interior paper (80# weight), full-color interior ink, white exterior paper (100# weight), full-color exterior ink
First Edition, Copyright 2006
Table of Contents
- Listening To The Earth
- Facing West
- Southern Storm
- December Raindrops
- After The Storm
- Wet Dirt
- February I Wonder
- Horses In May
- Summer Days
- The Cycle
- Something Memorable
- Today Is A Day
- A Simple Reminding
- Overcast Clouds & November
- The Pieces Of Yesterday
- Clouds At Twilight
- Hands Used For Goodness
- While Others Sleep
- For Those Who Understand
- Pale Moon Street Light
- Thirteen Hours Or More
- Sunset Prayer
Listening to the Earth
the wind has come up around me,
rearranging the sky
and dragging the clouds and the sun west.
now there is an orange glow behind the Camelback mountains.
I have been pacing along
a brick walkway,
though the piles of dried mulberry leaves
cracking in a fine brown and
this pacing has put my mind at ease.
it has refocused my scope.
today I have been writing about being
introspective and inpatient and
how frustrating it is that I feel guilty about using my time for
this (I still haven’t found a job).
you see, the last few years I have been alone
and I know that I have brought this upon myself by
not taking control.
but knowing doesn’t mean that I can be free of this.
it will take more.
all conflict aside, though, it is relaxing to
watch the clouds as the wind swathes my body;
there is a freedom about the whole
that to discover why certain events have unfolded in my life
the way that they have
and why I have had the losses
that I have had
may take many years.
yet, to be innocent again
would be nice.
to let go
would be nice.
and to have a moment
to feel that this life could be
would be damn nice.
today I will have to settle,
I suppose, and I will have to wonder
if it is possible to make this change
as I have lived it
it is raining on this desert tonight
and I am a memory – a chapter from my childhood.
often my parents would yell at each other… it would be unbearable.
to escape them I would go outside.
sometimes it would rain
and it would cover me.
as a child it was hard growing up with them.
it was difficult to listen to their voices
and their frustrations with life.
but my life is not a result of theirs anymore.
I have grown into this man,
and I have moved beyond the memories of them.
as this storm passes through,
I will tell you this:
tonight this is only rain
and a memory entertained
by a quiet evening of my own design.
Pale Moon Street Light
tonight the moon is pale,
and you, street light,
I am staring at you through this dirty window.
you have seen good times
and bad times,
and new moons.
but tonight you are the moon,
pale, drowning me, penetrating my window
and destroying any rest I could of had
with this first night of moving in.
but perhaps I am just elaborating when I should be sleeping,
as it is hard to sleep so far away from home.
tonight what I see out there is a poor substitution
only a street light that is loud like an angry woman,
shining on what I will call home from now on.