it is like
a knife
the ice hot
burning fire edge
the warming glow
of Self embrace
broiling and crackling
like that campfire
by the little lake
you swam
all the way across
only days before
the layer
of being a girl
was stripped away
the tipping point
pointing back to
that black hole fire
that is all the life
there is to live
tipping to one side
with cringing ash
disappearing off the lips
and one way
absorbing into
clear oceans
of infinity

Venus is retrograding back into darkness,
right along with Mercury.
All the good vibes and smart thought
gone out the back for a smoke
and some fresher air.
We tire of the same-old-same of life
and think up different scenarios
retrofitting our changing flight.
No tears come for left-behind dreams
not serving up the crème-de-la-crème
at the top of the crop. And really
for you and for I, all this backstepping
is only a piece of the step to this
hilarious dance that is life. We see
our intro through doors of inspecting
all we see; and we see our way to
adjusting a slightly altered version of
each varied moment in our reality.
Be kind in your retreat and respite
from the steady movement and marching feet
following the wheeled-in ruts
imprinting the road behind. Yeah sure,
they got us here, but that doesn’t
grant them right-away passage
further onward into that dreamland
we see but can never quite reach.

Some moments a thought comes -
It’s so much easier just to give up.
So comfy a feeling to visualize
nothing but blank-nothing –
Not to be. Not to think
or feel or breathe. No pressure
to present a concocted identity
one can’t even see that’s not at all me.
No stress keeping abreast of every snippet
of someone else’s reality. No figuring
or wondering or worrying or plans.
Nothing to hope for or hate
or to signify or demand.
No side-eyes screaming "how weird".
No stink-eyes looking to strike.
No evil intentions peering behind
some ignoramus’s unbelievable disguise.
No more fake smiles
and rhetorical "how are you's".
No more seeing wrong numbers
and choosing them too. Absent
anxiety and anger and acrid, stone-cold fear.
Absent color. Absent pattern.
Without texture or taste. No feeling
a thing like the aching of pain.
Some moments a thought comes -
Just end this silly race sooner.
Why stick around any longer
perceiving the same old, unpolished,
frayed and slightly greyed images
on a disappearing, silky screen,
when there is glorious and
unending nothing awaiting
this little, tiny insignificant me.

The voice that says my best is not enough,
that one isn’t God’s at all.
Why give it any of my attentions?
Isn’t it a program – an old one, at that?
It has to be left over from way, way back
before awakened times. And since
we’re headed for the golden times of light,
we can let that old voice dissipate
into air, as we ride ahead at our own speed.
You wonder where this voice started and why.
Then you see. And you see also
that you can leave it be. We said
we were done working, didn’t we?
Aren’t we playing now? Isn’t that
what all the blood and guts and sweat was about?
So lay that **** down and stomp that
flaming, sack of **** out. This flame in the heart
burns that rotten voice to charcoal dust.
And we can dream up our more comfy
and collective higher house on top of that archaic
and outdated and barely functioning,
inferior and conditional programming.
Aren’t I free? If I’m still asking
isn’t some irony missing?
Settling isn’t at all what they said it would be.
But then, don’t they always twist the truth
to spread the lie? And look!
Aren’t you still here, doing not a thing
and just as you please, watching
all the silly **** you guess you unleashed?
Oh Mother Lover of my Soul!
Look at all that ugly, ridiculous **** burn!

Is she not in her most pregnant fullness?
She is pulling out more stops
than we cared to admit were there.
Isn’t she toying with all our favorite passions:
Letting everyone know she rules?
And just the same as when she’s hiding,
but now, unrelenting in uncovering;
unabashedly and amusingly daring
anyone not to notice. Oh yes!
She is here and bigger and badder
than you could hope for.

My, my, those #s, they sure don’t lie!
Yes, we are tested. And yes,
we are brought to the edge of the cliff
and invited to jump. And yes,
we see our highest seven
hanging out to balance and center
for our greatest intended good.

We salute you, Oh Divine Mother Moon!
We bow to your intuitive wisdom
and transcendental truths,
as you align our frequencies
on all dimensions
only to truth.

Each day the sky tells a different story
each moment a new horizon arises
today, here, the sky dresses herself
in glorious gold and regal, dusky blue-grey
and brilliant, bright light-blue
using clouds to accent the best parts

every morning the sun paints a fresh masterpiece
to inspire my view
on a morning like this
though, there are no mornings alike
each one is the same and
each one is unique
on such a morning one will be born
and one will die
one will fall ill and
one will be attacked
one will force himself on another and
one will offer her best in sacrifice for love
one will starve and
one will die of a heart attack from too rich eating
one will fee love and another loathing

the world is a grand paradoxical scene
how can we continue this way?
and why would we want to?
I deny so much of myself
just to get along in this world
I see just my own light now
weeding out what isn't nourishing
sifting out what won't rise