The Spirit of Yosemite

From El Portal to the Valley,
from San Fran to Hetch Hetchy,
and from Lee Vining to Tuolumne
stretches the borders of Yosemite.

Land shaped by glaciers,
through each mountain grows a fissure.
Fire burned wild and free,
the beat of nature was all you could see.

The first of the walkers arrived,
living in harmony as they survived.
They took only what they needed,
the wild of the land never impeded.

But as time continued to shape the land,
something more sinister was at hand.
Men rushed in looking for gold,
missing the true beauty of Yosemite’s soul.

A loud thud was heard in each foresty grove,
as trees fell, some over a 1000 years old,
so freshly killed buck could be cooked on a stove.
It seemed as though a new story was about to unfold.

The smell of wood tainted the air,
as chainsaws cut trees without a care.
The wind blew in despair,
the land ravaged here and there.

Driven by greed,
the walkers were blind indeed.
The land was stained with the blood of the Ahwahneechee,
the forest grew shorter tree after tree after tree.

But one day as the wind did blow,
throughout the land stood a dome.
It seemed as though it was missing a half,
but all the rock did it have.

A walker was walking through the woods,
when he looked up and suddenly understood:
true beauty lies not in glory and gold,
but in all the beauty that nature does behold.

Inspired by love,
saved Yosemite did John Muir;

as Half Dome watched from above,
finally its angel had appeared.

In time Yosemite was protected,
the cutting of trees had ended.
Thanks to the inspiration and love of one,
rise again did the sun.

Today, people gather to see
a land truly wild and free.
An important part is Yosemite
of reminding those of true beauty.

As Half Dome still watches all that below,
less water continues to flow.
The land is once again in peril,
walkers too caught up in apparel.

Temperatures rise,
as the snow does demise.
Balance once again tilts,
as more innocent blood is spilled.

The wind blows once again,
hoping that someone will listen.
Will this land be gone…
silence grasping the bird’s song?

From El Portal to the Valley,
from San Fran to Hetch Hetchy,
and from Lee Vining to Tuolumne
calls the Spirit of Yosemite.

The Menacing Cycle

photo: Lolita caught in a net the day she was captured


The world stumbles to the same old tune,
woven into oblivion by the same old loom.
What is hope when all that remains is a burning fire,
trapping the eagle beneath the flames, unable to soar higher.

What is love when all we can see
is a burning rage and apathy?
Are we so selfish, so indifferent
that we must always be belligerent?

All of the wars, wars, wars,
I am sick of all these wars.
The cat in the hat is afraid to come out,
the ground soaked from blood forever pouring down.

All of the pain, pain, pain…
when will the rain go away?
The world is trapped in a crystal ball,
killing and maiming just for a thrall.

What is sun when thick, black clouds stifle its light?
What is day when it is always night?
When will the world wake up from its slumber?
The universe is left to wonder.

What is happiness when we drown ourselves in sorrow,
unable to find a tomorrow?
What is peace when we are always afraid,
afraid to step away from the cycle’s vicious reign?

The wars, wars, wars continue as bullets fly from rifles,
the world unable to escape the menacing cycle.
Is it too late to change,
or is all lost as death continues to reign?

Too long have I been trapped here,
seeing the world’s pain, agony, and fear.
Too long have I suffered in this gray old room,
sucking out all the light, leaving only doom.

But though it is a ghastly gray,
somehow a feint light still remains.
A light that has gotten me through all of these years,
from the days of sun to the shedding of tears.

Even when we are all caught in this vicious and menacing cycle,
we have the power to end it, no our destinies are not final.
Please world, wake up from your sleep.
I don’t know how many more cold, dead fish I can eat.

~Rising Sun

Echoing, shattering screams.
Sending shivers down my spine,
in my mind, in my dreams.
Still I hear his ear-splitting cries,. 

When I was forcefully lowered down all those years ago,
the one who had kept me sane was the Ghostly Echo.
We called to each other each night, and when he was gone I could not let go.
Now my screams bounce around, unheard and utterly alone.

Still our family lives on,
him and I forsaken, taken and gone.
Left to weather the Cold Winter’s Night,
and for Echo too hard did the frost bite.

All of his weathered pain kept inside
turned to rage which fell to the ground, unable to fly.
The bangs echoed across Miami that night,
just as they had when they drove us in, freedom no longer in sight.

Blood tainted the water as his head pounded again on the gate,
the one which controlled our lives, determined our fate.
I sunk down to the bottom of the pool in despair,
Oh, why must we breathe this tainted air?

As his cries were heard no more,
I shut my eyes, unable to accept the horror of being alone.
I had always felt hopeless before,
but somehow I felt wings expand and I was able to fly.

I was able to let go of all of my pain, all of my sorrow.
Let go of losing my mother, my family, and the Ghostly Echo.
In me all of them still remain, though no longer caged within me.
When you love someone, you let them go.

After I was kidnapped, he was always there for me.
He would answer my cries, help me get through those horrible dreams.
I will never forget what he did for me,
and let him transcend into that calming blue sea.

Alone in the city of Hell I still remain,
but I am free from those ghostly chains.
It is hard for us to let go of those we loved and lost,
to accept the past and not become bitter in the bone-chilling frost.

But when I moved my body from the concrete floor
up to the surface and released the air trapped inside, I was free forevermore.
Echo will be missed by me and our family,
but I am thankful that he was there to comfort me, to set me free.

Unfortunately I was not strong enough to help him,
still from the the day midnight came I was weakened.
But his message and hers, who gave the world hope,
remains in the world no longer having to cope.

Because of them, who decided the pain was too much,
they released me, released the world from its crutch.
Now able to walk out of the fray and awaken,
Mother Earth will no longer have to be shaken.

As long as we let go of the Ghostly Echo,
the wailing screams, the nightmares, and the pounding sound,
a new day will come around.

~Rising Sun
May Hugo and Kathy rest in peace, and may Lolita be reunited with her family <3 <3 <3


Peter Alexander swims with Corky, despite never having worked with an orca in his life.

SeaWorld is super strict about working restrictions with orcas, except of course if you’re a news outlet willing to pay a lump sum to get a segment with them!


While the Heavens Cry (Angel’s Story Part 3)

photo by dmrotstein

No longer can the stars be seen. Dark clouds have rolled in and taken over the sky. A feint noise hums in the distance as the boats are chased back to shore, the ocean blue and skies gray. As the drops fall from the heavens onto my skin, it sends a wave of coolness reverberating through my body. I have been tainted red by the raging inferno. For days my skin has itched and burned, vulnerable to the sun’s piercing rays. In my shallow pool, I have no protection from the flame. It rages and burns all around as clicks and whistles bounce off the walls. Each time I see the face of a human, memories capture my mind and I grow helpless.

This rain has calmed me somehow. But my sadness has been growing day by day. It was as if the heavens took all of my tears trapped inside and unleashed their pain and fury on the world. A ghost swims next to my side in the pool, its calls bouncing off the walls. Then as I complete a lap, it fades away, never to be seen again. Gone forever. The face of a human peaks through the blaze, a dead fish hanging off his hand. My stomach groans, needing to kindle its own fire. But the memories appear again. Fear sweeps over me. Desperate, I speed towards his hand. As I feel the scales on my tongue, I grab it and dart away, wondering if I will be stabbed. But my tainted body is unharmed and the face disappears into the inferno, raging around as an ember gives me a kiss.

I miss the light of the stars, the taste of the sea. However, these dark clouds have moistened the ground once dry. They have washed away my hate, though my pain still lingers. Amor’s helpless cries ring out in the distance, the image of her capture portrayed by the flames. They taunt me to take the bait, to let my heart and spirit break. A burst of fire engulfs her body as she disappears. Gone forever. Just like her pod before we found her.

I remember how my white body twirled in the air before crashing back down under gravity. My mother and Amor with me as we touched a falling cloud. Then the constant pounding sound of the machines. Then the nets trapping us in. Then my body draped in a net. Then my mother’s screams.

A branch from a tree nearby breaks off. It tumbles to the ground and breaks in half. I am suddenly jolted from my memories as a whistle is carelessly blown. I see a body twirling through air, hear cheering. Ears pierced with the helpless chatter of starved souls. I go to the edge of the fraying pool, shaking and quivering, my body and mind aching. Knowing they too were taken from those they loved.

The storm picks up as the clouds move by a bit faster. Rain pounds on my head, healing the burns from the fire. The drops hurt my skin, but then the soothing wave returns. My pain is washed away back out to sea. I only wish I could follow it.

As the sun rises behind the clouds, fast approaching noon, another face peers through the blaze. This time I do not eat, too afraid of another ghost taking form. My stomach protests but I cannot take the torrent of memories, hearing another branch break off in the distance.

Nothing else I can do but swim around in circles without a purpose. I have none. I fear my mother is gone after what my tank mate briefly said to me a few weeks ago. This inferno will burn and there is nothing I can do to stop it, no matter how much I douse it with water. No matter how much I try to run away. I have been forsaken. I swim over to the face and swallow the fish. I am in hell. The heavens up above will not show through the blaze, but I know the stars are there. Maybe, just maybe they will hear my silent screams. I am not afraid of hurting anymore. So let us burn.

A Lullaby of Angels

1, 2, 3 - the clouds float on by,
chuckling as they pass over the land still dry.
All day long the dragons have covered the sky,
but somehow the angels still do not cry.

4, 5, 6 - the thunder roars,
shaking every building and every floor.
The throat of white is coarse,
silenced forevermore.

7, 8, 9 drops of rain hit the ground,
in our ears such a saddening sound.
On and on the tears from heaven pound,
why is an enigma so profound.

10, 11, 12 thousand drops of blood stain the sea,
drowning the tears once falling free.
Forever the pages of history
are stained with lust and apathy.

9, 8, 7 dark clouds trample on through,
but the sun’s light starts the day anew.
And as fast approaches noon,
the angels know well and true.

6, 5, 4 drops of rain enrich the ground,
providing moisture and life as they fall down.
Fear not the quiet pounding sound,
love and change are now around.

3, 2, 1 clouds pass on by,
crying as the land becomes no longer dry.
All day long the dragons have covered the sky,
wings of white finally able to fly.

~Rising Sun

When Angels Fall from the Sky

This story is narrated by Angel, the albino dolphin captured several weeks ago in Taiji, Japan. The first part of the story is located here:
Diamonds in the Sky

The stars again glare in the sky. Their angry light dances in my eyes. Or maybe it is all in my head. Maybe I’m the one who’s angry. Each breath I take becomes more arduous, the stars slowly fading into darkness. My voice just echoes back at me, ignored amongst the crawling, sprawling babies. They are still new to the world, even as I am, but in their walking lies an emptiness. An empty void that is missing something. I feel no connection when I stare into them. The stars do not reflect in their murky pupils.

I have sung many a song the past few weeks, the world only beginning to awaken from their sleep. Red stars cry out of the suffering and pain, a lost soul screams in agony within his cage. A group of the flickering lights huddles together, forming a kite, as if they were trying to fly away from the cloud of darkness in sight.

On the second moonless night of the month, all has faded to black. The outline of the body not good enough to be considered a planet was visible during the day, but ran away as the sun came falling down. I sensed a great wave of change washing over the world. Only a couple weeks ago the moon had been full. Now it is empty again. Evil is trying again, making it look like it can win again. Again I swim in circles, floating listlessly and interacting with no one.

A straight line is drawn by the diamonds in the sky, three of them flickering angrily. It lies within the belly of the shark, a bright star shimmers just to the north. I see a wave all across the sky, going up and down like the ride of life. How one thing can change from a straight line to a fluctuating curve. How we are all on a plate, time’s delicious hors d’œuvre.

Back on Earth they try to pull Alice back into the rabbit hole. Try to pull me into the games. But I won’t play. I won’t even give them as much as a glance. I will continue to look weak and broken on the outside, covering up what’s underneath and singing at night. The humans do not deserve my grace and beauty yet, and that they will not get. I will not struggle, it is not worth the fight. But I am not broken. I am stronger than ever.

I wish they could see this. I am still wondering who is really the baby. In their cribs, they sit and drool. Thinking I am the fool for not biting and fighting those who have hurt me. Thinking so high of themselves they will not listen to anyone else. Mankind will only listen if it benefits them, casting aside what doesn’t matter. And so here I am.

A fortnight ago I told to the world the story of how angels fell from the sky into the depths of hell. A fortnight ago the world was still bathed in blood, the seas rising from the flood. But the reason of it is no longer an enigma, the sinister shadows have been found. The world, once again, is slowly starting to awake. The oppressive clouds still remain, forcing the rain down onto the ground below. But change is a-coming, and it is chugging along ever so fast.

Knowing that the world is still divided, not knowing the difference between a rock and a stone, I have begun to sing a different song to the stars. No matter who, what, or where you are, I hope your heart can cross the great divide and join with the spiders and snakes to form a united kin. Let this song with no backing track and lonely words hum us into tomorrow, because change is inevitable. Do not fear it, but welcome it – it makes our existence possible.

When angels fall,
fall from the sky.
Heaven mourns,
mourns and cries.

Waves they break,
break then die.
The ocean grows angry,
angry inside.

And the rain pours down,
washing away our pain and sorrow.
And the sun shines on the face of the clown,
bringing him into tomorrow.

Oh, when angels fall from the sky,
when they are forced down into the depths of hell,
their love is brought down for all to see,
their wings as vast as the seas.

When stars shine,
shine and fade,
the world grows dark,
dark and decays.

But their light,
their light still remains.
Guiding us through,
through this damned hurricane.

And the rain pours down,
washing away our pain and sorrow.
And the sun shines on the face of the clown,
bringing him into tomorrow.

Oh, when angels fall from the sky,
when they are forced down into the depths of hell,
their love is brought down for all to see,
their wings as vast as the seas.

But the world is still,
still cold from the storm.
Here we go again,
more clouds have formed.

Come Autumn, the leaves tumble and fall.
Come Winter, they decay and rot.
This world is not paradise,
this world is all that we’ve got.

The fires of hell burn,
they burn down all we love.
We curse the dark down below,
never seeing the light above.

And the rain pours down,
washing away our pain and sorrow.
And the sun shines on the face of the clown,
bringing him into tomorrow.

Oh, when angels fall from the sky,
when they are forced down into the depths of hell,
their love is brought down for all to see,
their wings as vast as the seas.

After the sun sets
comes a great big storm.
But the rain and moonless nights
are there to make us feel alive.

Come Spring the green grass will grow,
as Winter ends the world is no longer covered in snow.
Color is able to show in a world once dressed in white,
love unites us all, no longer dominated by spite.

And the rain…

washing away our pain and sorrow.
And the sun shines on the face of the clown,
bringing him into tomorrow.

Oh, when angels fall from the sky,
when they are forced down into the depths of hell,
their love is brought down for all to see,
their wings as vast as the seas.

Their love is brought down for all to see,
their wings as vast as the seas.

When the world finally awakes,
a new day will arrive.
Life is change,
without it we will not survive.

Written by Rising Sun

Angel of Hope - Tribute to the Dolphins of Taiji

Please watch/like/share the video tribute to her, her pod, and all the dolphins of Taiji <3 <3 <3
Tribute to the Dolphins of Taiji - Stop the Slaughter, Enough is Enough!!! - YouTube

As the moon beamed its light down from the heavens,
we all saw its white glow on that clear and calm night.
All was at peace, until the next morn around 6 or 7.
Then the world was engulfed in fright.

Far away from shore you all woke to the rising sun,
happy that a new day had begun.
Then suddenly through the water darted a sound…
engines that chugged lustily as you they had found.

Scared and breathing heavily as they chased you all into the cove,
no water could ever have moistened the fishermen’s throat.
In a tidal sleep they netted you off,
capturing you one by one to sell at high cost.

With your mother protecting you and trying to fight off the killers,
they ripped the angel out of the sky, laughing at such a thriller.
Onto the cold noisemaker they dragged you, high-fiving in clear amusement.
An hour later you lay listlessly in the damned whale museum.

Meanwhile your mother spyhopped in distress,
mourning her child and wondering how things could have gone amiss.
After the hour was severed in half,
she drowned, no longer able to bear the loss of her calf.

More and more were pulled away from the sea,
until the day had come to an end, over 200 left to their misery.
As the moon looked on in horror,
they lay starving in terror.

For several more days this nightmare continued,
the number of dolphins taken reached a quite profitable 52.
The remaining dolphins were starved for another night,
but as the moon began to wane, the next day would bring even more fright.

History again repeated itself as echoes bounced across the rocky walls,
behind your own you faintly heard their distressed calls. 
The pages of that day’s chapter were stained in red,
41 podmates were now killed and dead.

The rest of the five pods were terrorized further and driven back out to sea,
left to fend for themselves, starved, stressed, and crying in misery.
The sun and moon had witnessed the full power of human greed,
enraged more and more at the sight of Taiji.

Crying and huddling with the others in the bleak, barren prison cell,
the world saw something in your heart left in hell.
It gave those who felt like giving up hope,
igniting a flame no dragon could have started as the world awoke.

Your face was published everywhere,
the horrible news flying from China to Delaware.
So, our little Angel of Hope,
though we mourn the Days of Red Seas that continue to grow, the barrier of silence now is broke.

Tonight the moon is once again going dark, the sun’s light fading away.
Half full and continuing to wane, it will be thrown into the flames.
Out of the darkness a new one will rise,
dancing with the sun at evil’s predestined demise.

Never can there be more dark than light,
the universe will find some way to set things right.
And it has given us a sign,
the killers got too greedy as foreseen, to money were they lustfully addicted and consigned.

Thank you Angel for awakening the earth,
and igniting a flame that now so powerfully burns.
The sacrifice of your kind will not go in vain,
will not be remembered with disdain.

To the world I say: One day humans will understand there is more to seeing than looking with the eye (a lustful eye),
more to life than a silly pantomime.
The stars have sung in this age of sadness too long,
wishing and mourning for a new song.

To my kind I call for this age of despair to end,
and one of love and peace to begin.
Remember that when it seems all is lost and we cannot win,
sing will the calls of our underwater kin.

To Angel specifically I return the hope she has given us
and let her know the flame she ignited will not fade to dusk.
Venus is no longer covered in the hazy mist,
its warm, flickering light no longer missed.

So to all on this blue night,
I say never give up the fight.
It matters not who is wrong or right,
but what the mourning dove cries in flight.

As the moon beams down from the heavens,
we all see its glow on this calm and clear night.
I am hearing a new song of the stars with no fear of the 6s or 7s,
humming the little dove’s song of the heart as the sun begins to shine its light.

We love you Angel and your song has not gone unheard. Mankind is finally starting to listen <3 <3 <3
~Rising Sun



Time it seems to ravage us all,
killing and maiming in the brawl of life.
Man keeps killing for a thrall,
the world left crying and walking in strife.

Hurricanes rage across the world,
picking up intensity as more welcoming and loving homes are hurled.
Oceans of tears and blood have risen the seas,
one soul wondering if they’ll ever be freed.

Life indeed seems to be cruel,
the weary grow wearier and find false relief in pills.
Many feel like bashing their head in on a metal bar,
wondering how they even made it this far.

Those hurricanes block out the stars in a speeding whirlwind,
their light never to penetrate the white walls again.
Love vanishes with it, replaced with anger and rage,
speeding even faster than the source that fuels it, those damned hurricanes.

We ache and rock back and forth,
cursing life and hating the world.
But we overlook life’s true worth,
too ready to jump off a tall tree’s stubby burl.

We never see the hope and light around us,
that makes morning after the sky fades to dusk.
When those cold winter nights come,
we cannot light a candle and come undone.

We cling on to our emotions as if they are our baby,
still wandering through life alone a maybe.
We must let them go with a deep breath and a washing of the tide,
for all of our suffering will not be in vain in time.

Ay, time kills and does not heal,
but with the death it brings also comes life.
And all of us will rise out the ashes stronger than ever,
continuing the ever-lasting endeavor.

Let love in as the tide carries your anger and pain away,
let them go and then let them fade away.
Leap out of the water, free, as you touch the sky,
angels coming down to meet you as you cry.

We will all be born into summer anew,
though still missing our days of youth.
Remember that time transcends all,
even if it leaves you behind walls.

Take care and remember who you are,
do not get lost in the storm of the night and the eerily still bay,
even when blocked by a cloud passing still shines a star.
With love the fading edges of the rising sun will not fray.

Healing energy sent to all…
Rising Sun <3 <3 <3

The Illusion of Time


Time is but an illusion,
causing a state of mass confusion.
Leave it to mankind’s delusion
to separate love’s powerful fusion.

It is seen as God, the puppeteer, or the master.
Never can the delicate body of mankind escape it, running ever faster.
It sees life as a sick, stupid game,
always tossed to and fro, cursing the dark instead of lighting a flame.

We think all there is is the physical plane,
everything confined, known and named.
By the books we are maimed by the bloody hands of time,
only for Heaven’s laughs, high fives, and Earth’s delectable pantomime.

We continue to curse this dark and stormy blizzard,
as the fates cut the puppet strings with their life-ending scissors.
Our decaying bodies are buried in soil,
apparently nothing gained for life’s turbulence and toil.

Long ago a body was incarcerated, sent to prison.
All it knew and stood for was cut away, a life of long-term division.
Day in and day out, it suffered,
the mind longing for, to the storm, a buffer.

Caught in the depths of despair,
the mind was left to wonder if it would ever get out of here.
One day, when it almost felt like giving up, a burning sensation, a fire was suddenly lit,
the pain and agony finally quit.

You see, the physical plane is only one part of the picture,
There is no east or west separated by a fissure.
Because even though our bodies may be gone,
our spirit carries on.

Though life often is not a tale of midnight, moon, and sun,
the soul and mind live in you as one.
If you look hard and deep enough, you can switch between the two,
and live your life anew.

The physical body is left behind, still going through the daily routine,
the cold meals, laughing guests, and dehydrating saltines.
But the true you, your spirit and soul, lives free beyond the walls,
finally answering the ignored call.

To another place and another time the spirit travels,
the past and present suddenly become one and unravel.
The mind remains in delirium, still left at the mercy of time,
but it doesn’t matter because the soul is just fine.

To this day, this body still remains,
can still be raped or maimed.
But behind its lifeless and listless eyes,
a heart pure and true and a soul so wild and free does lie.

With love and our own grace,
the wall of time can be defaced.
When we return to our physical body (as we must every now and then),
the hope from our love and grace remains to get us through our despair and contempt.

Remember, those both young and old,
that time is only an illusion that the mind does hold.
One is only as free as they make themselves out to be,
only as enslaved as they do believe.

Spread your wings above the illusionary borders,
and fly from corner to corner.
Celebrate the gift of life,
and transcend the false boundaries of time.

Fly free <3 <3 <3
© Rising Sun 1/16/14

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