Tuesday, October 20, 2015



                                      Till The End of Time

I have left the choking maze of concrete patterns behind me
to stand at lands’ end.  


It is here I have found the beating heart of Mother Earth.
She beckons me at sunset, silently, with colors beyond imagination.


Her greatness explodes across the sky and below she bellows the audible sounds of the surf that build into a grand crescendo to celebrate days' end.


The sparkle of the ocean begins its mesmerizing dance that welcomes the sun to come to rest behind her distant edge.


In the sky above are the endless and magical shapes of clouds floating across the golden sky, as the distant fog horn beckons to the wayward gulls and guides them home to roost at water's edge.


With my soul now fulfilled and with last light, I reluctantly turn away into the darkness, grateful once again to have witnessed the beauty of Mother Earth, hoping someday to be at peace as my ashes float away with the tide, on their endless journey, till the end of time.


Gil Garcia



                                            My Valley

The darkness excepts the awakening of a new day over the eastern rim of the valley floor.

The distant highlands sculpted by nature's wind and ancient ice accepts this sun's morning's gift of bright glistening golden crowns along their uppermost edges, as the lower masses blanket themselves in shades of soft blue mist.

Sheared cliffs stand guard as sentries protecting all that lives on the valley floor.  A meadow bounded by an emerald green forest that has given perch to the midnight stars for a thousand years awaits the first ray of warmth upon its branches where a mountain jay trumpets with joy.

Given this moment of tranquility, my soul returns to its resting place, concealed by time, laid to rest by my brothers of the Miwoks of the Yosemite: my valley for evermore.

Gil Garcia


                                    My Brother of The Blue

My brother Paul was my mentor in the arts, and in so many other ways.
As a child, he made me laugh, as a teen he nurtured my love for the arts, and as a man he gave me direction.

He and I spent many a days in a small boat sitting off the coast of Newport and San Pedro Harbors.  We talked, we laughed, we had a little wine.  We joyed in our moments of un-regimented freedom.

Those who went fishing with him new of his fascination with the many colors that made up the ocean hues.  He was at peace out there, sitting over the ocean, listening to the gulls as the water lapped against the bow in the mist of nature's wonders.

I'd give anything to fish with him one more day, or sit in his studio listening to jazz while his imagination flowed to canvas.
Just one more day brother__just one more day.

Your brother, with love,


gil