How sweet are echoes of the heart,
Tempered by time and nostalgia;
Weathered by years, heart’s work of art,
Steeped in boundless tales…I tell ‘ya.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Remnants of Hurricane Isaias continue to lumber northward along the US Eastern Seaboard. Impacts in the Carolinas include flash flooding, power outages and sporadic tornado warnings. In our neighborhood, long-overdue rainfall boosts river courses, lake water levels and heals retreating shorelines.
In the aftermath of the tempest the vault of Heaven unfurls, winds die down and skies brighten. I take time to meander along Jordan Lake’s liquid rim—my shadow as faithful companion. Serenity reigns supreme. Yet, with soul draped in velvet my sanctuary feels invaded by a sacred rage—righteous indignation about current events in human affairs.
As I ponder these thoughts and feelings, I soon realize that righteous indignation is a complex emotional state woven into my soul’s fabric; that, anger is morally justified, when triggered, among other things, by perceived injustice, moral wrongs, cruelty or abuse of power. It’s not rooted in ordinary anger that arises from personal slights, bruised egos or life’s minor inconveniences. The indignation feels justified, because it’s as honest as the passing hurricane or a fire that demands its fuel. Thus my anger is baptized in justice. Should I question the intensity of this beautifully reasoned ache, this righteous tempest that stirs my blood?
My mind’s uneasy rebellion and confusion soon aligns with what my heart already knows. Unless tempered with grace and self-control, righteous indignation easily slides into destructive pride or personal vengeance—invitations to failure. Said behaviors will lead to communication breakdowns, lack of empathy, group polarization and strained personal relationships. However, when channeled constructively, genuine righteous indignation can champion the vulnerable, correct systemic wrongs or restore justice. Otherwise, righteous indignation just becomes a way to avoid personal uncomfortable shadows like shame, greed, grief, envy, helplessness, self-interest or fear.
I end my sojourn on a positive note—remembering a favorite passage in President Abraham Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address on March 4, 1861 that speaks of healing divisions and animosities among people—touched “by the better angels of our nature."
© Ilija Lukic 2026
An untamed, saffron brushstroke sets ablaze
Hushed harmonies of shadowless silence
In autumn woodlands veiled in misty haze–
Quiet courage in life’s mists…self-reliance.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
My homage to an enduring clan within the Osage Nation social structure—known by the moniker Moh-sho-tsa-moie or Travelers in the Mist—tasked with the sacred responsibility of leadership and guidance, when the tribe faces uncertainty during ventures into unfamiliar realms or suffers tumultuous change.
Life’s journey weaves tapestries with heartstrings—
Thread spun of woes and days lived in clover.
By grace they ease my soul’s earthly stopover,
Until called to come home…on angel wings.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
When I step mindfully out of living on autopilot, it’s easier to embrace the bittersweet awareness that everything changes, passes and eventually comes to an end. Joy fades, grief passes, human connections come and go, flesh and bone age—nothing stays the same.
With new found clarity I commit body and soul to cherish the ordinary, temporary moments in life, the heartstrings—like a fiery sunset, first love, a golden autumn morning, a meaningful conversation, a child’s laughter or delicate spray of springtide cherry blossoms; but also, empathy for people suffering, compassion, soul-crushing heartbreak and betrayal.
The scarcity of time makes heartstrings precious and skyrockets their value. It’s their impermanence that makes life profoundly meaningful, sacred and beautiful.
Welcome life’s cloudbursts
They beg kinship with your heart.
Each heaven-sent tear
Waters both joys and sorrows.
Embrace the mavericks—
The droplets that stand apart—
They brim with notions
That sort life’s rubs and arrows.
Lend ear…forge life’s course
With renewed inner compass,
You’ll find spice of life
Dwells in both chaos and rumpus.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
I’ve come to understand and see,
That I am not unlike a tree.
A seedling borne on springtide breeze
Sprouts tall with heart and soul at ease.
Root-bound till love my heart unbinds;
‘Neath summer skies said love spellbinds.
Then…hushed, foggy autumn mornings
With woods ablaze nurture yearnings
For winter’s peace in blessed silence—
Sacred respite…divine alliance.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
When change rides roughshod in a bold onrush,
Drink not from the well of anguish and woes,
Embrace the whirlwind, the chaos and rush,
Navigate change with your soul's compass rose.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Ingrained in our shared humanity is the trait to see the beauty of the natural world as an abundant, inexhaustible fountain of optimism and cheerfulness.
One could argue that such blind positivity—to mindfully set aside the harsh realities and bad news pervasive in modern life—is absurd or delusional and not good for the heart and soul. Yet, said small moments that subscribe to the notion of “God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world” more often than not serve to process emotions like pain and grief. Such moments will build genuine resilience, emotional depth and connection to those nearest and dearest to you and society as a whole.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Why does my soul yearn
For halcyon days of yore,
While tell-tale heart soars
In untold dreams of morrows?
‘Cause said stepping stones
Frame rhythms of life’s dance floor
That help weather tides
Of life’s unsparing sorrows.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
The incredible botanical tapestry that blankets the shortgrass prairie and arid lands of the Llano Estacado Plateau in September always leaves me in awe. It’s age-old symphony of warm hues and exotic aromas of sage and earth urges senses to escape the daily grind and submit heart and soul to ethereal realms of the universe.
Golden crescendos of broom snakeweed embrace withered stalks of yucca campaniles. Their quiet chatter filled with nostalgic whispers of flowered spring heydays and summer monsoons buoys the afternoon hush. Even the rhythmic squeaking and clanking of sails on scattered stock tank windmills, driven by the endless plainsong of prairie winds, seems to add a measure of tranquility.
Once again, the autumnal spoke on the wheel of life marks the passage of time on the Staked Plains of New Mexico. For time immemorial the encouraging extravaganza of high plains flora—its last hurrah of summer splendor—prepares the tablelands and its denizens for winter slumber amidst unfailing covenants and high hopes for a springtide resurrection of life.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
When hopes, needs and quandaries trouble your mind,
Humbly persist, seek spiritual truths;
Knock and doors to divine grace will open
And reveal an untold realm of existence.
© Ilija Lukic 2026
Hold dear...hopes and dreams that dwell in your hearts
And embrace milestones blessed by divine grace,
For said connection buoys your soul’s ramparts—
Keeps hope afloat amidst lifelong rat race.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
A September sunrise on the Llano Estacado Plateau near the High Plains town of Clovis—on the border of the Texas Panhandle and eastern reaches of the Land of Enchantment—never fails to inspire reflection. At 4,280 feet above sea level, the cool morning ambiance with humidity in the 20s and air temperatures in the 60s belies the expected, torrid afternoon highs in the 90s.
I have a spiritual connection to and deep affection for New Mexico’s cactus-strewn prairies, boundless horizons that beckon travelers on treks across sweeping arid lands, mystical mesas and snow-capped mountains, and, most importantly the vibrant and indomitable people whose character was forged by storied and celebrated traditions built upon foundations of indigenous cultures and European ancestral legacies…bury my heart in New Mexico.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Salida Del SolWhen seas of life rage and animosity reigns, don’t fight hate with hate. Protect your inner peace and break the cycle—allow your heart to dwell on kindness.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Rain-soaked prairie winds born of cheeky sass
Find harbor among chainlink cactus spines,
Weary of sun-drenched dance ‘cross seas of grass
And restless chases of far-flung skylines.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Calf roping in rodeos is a partnership between a well-trained horse and rugged wrangler. It’s not a rough stock event like bareback, saddle bronc and bull riding. It’s a race against the clock.
Before each competitive go-round the cowboy takes time to check and ready specialized tack and a 25-foot lariat. The saddle has a low, wide horn with forward-hung stirrup to help with quick dismounts. A neck rope draped loosely across the horse’s head and neck will keep the horse facing the calf once the cowboy dismounts. Bell boots protect the horse’s hooves and heels. The short piece of rope tucked securely in the roper’s belt awaits action. Once in the arena he will use this piggin’ string to tie three of the calf’s legs. A final half-hitch knot—hooey in rodeo parlance—secures the legs, which signals completion of the run and stops the clock.
Albeit overwhelmed by the din of a raucous Pioneer Days Rodeo crowd in Clovis, New Mexico, spoken and unspoken words of encouragement between said partners linger on whispers of hot afternoon winds.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Indigenous cultures of Oregon, like the Hood River Wasco and Chinook, have long revered the Multnomah Falls gorge and cascading waters as a place of spiritual power. In oral traditions the sacred waters and mists embody the spirit of a young native woman, whose prophesied sacrificial leap from the crest of the sheer cliff on her wedding day saves friends, family and tribe from a gruesome plague. Her grief-stricken father entreats his spirit guide Yul-mah, acquired on a vision quest, to intercede with sky spirits and ask for a sign honoring her sacrifice. Mystically, daylong somber and mist-laden skies opened in the golden hour at sunset and gave us Multnomah Falls—a breathtaking refuge.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Starlit skies invite fond tree frog chorus,
While fireflies drift on sultry night airs,
Till rolling thunder in skies above us
Quiets halcyon summer-night affairs.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
A sense of wonder is the cornerstone of wisdom.
Some years ago my daughters, wife and I hike the Trail of Ten Falls in Silver Falls State Park, Oregon. We pause in awe at each cascade, enraptured by the soul-stirring quietude of plunging water.
My younger daughter, an avid and creative photographer, captures one such moment where my imagination takes flight—an image worth a thousand words. It is a moment where my curiosity soars and mind opens with a humble desire to understand the depths of the universe and profound mysteries of Creation.
As I look back and recapture the feeling at said milestone in my life-long journey of self-discovery, I wholeheartedly reaffirm my enduring resolve never to lose my sense of wonder—the key that unlocks a sublime compass, which guides my heart and soul’s quest for meaning in life towards the heart of the universe.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Thunder Moon reigns mid Dog Days of Summer,
Stirs dark winds of fate to push me astray,
Yet, sways me to follow my heart’s drummer,
While Dog Star in night skies shows hallowed way.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
