The key circles round to the lock
A lock which is known needs no key
A door that only faces inward  
On the outside has nothing to see

To open the way is to find yourself
Staring at the firmly locked door
To find the key is to notice
You've not needed a key here before

The way to ascend is much lower
Not up or through but behind  
So that door and its lock will remain
Until we let them leave our mind

[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0 and repeat]

We
fit toge
ther seamlessly
like the numbers on
a digital alarm clock,
moving without hesi
tation, from one figure to
the next, a movement of time transi
tioning,  unsettling, unnotica

bly building on and constructing ourselves
within the construction of time
itself. We are the only
static constant, the on
ly reliable source:
time keeps moving
forward, and
so will
we —

It wasn’t a river  
just a pool,
more of a hotub,
set off from the sanctuary—
and when I was eased
into  the water
I didn’t see God
in the streams above.

And I didn’t see her
lost in the thunder
of the racetrack
just beyond the church.

She was beyond
my line of sight,
soaking up congratulations
from the congregation.

The pastor gave me
a gentle pat on my back,
shook my hand, three times,
handed me a towel
and welcomed me to the flock.

I was just another sinner saved
and left to go his own way,
certain in the faith
that God will provide.

She said she would meet
me back at her place
after the potluck.

I wrang the towel
of every last drop
and  handed it
back to her.

I walked back to
my old white Civic,
turned it over
and felt the
cool Jesus breeze
of the A/C hit my face.

The voice inside
told me to do the
first thing I heard
on the radio.

I heard Ray Charles
in his blindness
croon to me:

“Hit the road Jack
and don't you come back
No more, no more, no more, no more.

Hit the road Jack
and don't you come back
No more.”

I don't really know if you love poetry,
I know that you yourself can use words lovingly,
I love getting lost in your passionate ways,
Let me be the mirror of love to you.

Why do I feel so old?
I am not old but gold,
It's only my thirtieth birthday.
I'm gonna need to find Emilia Clarke
To be able to come out of the dark
And to trust myself and to love myself
As I am.

To live for myself.. be my friend.
To be free, I need to believe.
At the moment I feel much pressure.
But I know if our love is real -
Any challenge it will heal.
I am sure, it is a treasure.

Knowing neither good nor evil but just what is
The science of being is to flow to reach goals
For which you're free to choose and dream
Armed with wits and strength to learn and strive
Never failing, always believing, of indefeasible spirit
Bowing to no one but yourself as justified
For you're always higher today than yesterday

Picking one from many fools who ran for a small price
Tempted with morsels, contemptible as the beasts
Gullibly proud of unshakeable beliefs pleasing the ears
Snared they shall to slave that my free will shall be

Throw away the net
of protection
in this world:
jobs, material possessions,
health and fall,
fall into the arms of love.
Trust you will be held,
Held in deep security,
by the Maker,
who wrote your days
before.

You are my safety net.

The grey langurs screech

in the main city temple --


and bang the clappers.

I cannot die ~ even if you carry me out of here

I cannot die ~ if you separate me from myself

I cannot die ~ if no one remembers me

I cannot die ~ if I refuse to believe it