By the nature of balance, things come and go. The ones I love are drifters like me- we are lost and found. Often, it's in a change of perspective. We are in a complex sea of currents and tides. Sometimes they carry us away together, sometimes they send us in different directions, and sometimes they pull us together... The currents and tides that we drift within are the same as those which drift within and through us. My words simply are not from me, they are passing though me, just as I am not from any place I have been, but passing though... Home is not a place I am from. I am from no place (creates the illusion of separateness). Home is what I'm from. Love is my home, what I am from. I can be home when I'm drifting, when I am lost, when I am found. I'll strive to remember to keep my heart light, and trust the flow, so that I can be carried to wherever I am to go.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Rosemary sat in the shade for too long,
still she watered her toes.
While the Sun went by each day
with wonderful, multi-spectrum indifference,
she started to mold.
The Sun was oblivious to the life he perpetuated.
And the Moon turned the tides
And the waves reflected her lovely face-
neither knew the other.
That was the very same moment that
Time got lost in the eyes of his lover,
the Light, and in their love for their children,
The Sun and the Moon
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
The children who walk on the graves
are the horses they reach for
and the horses are the grass they're eating
and the grass is the people who died there
and the people who killed them.
And the bugs are singing the song on the wind
as well as the birds
and they are the trees they perch in
who are the wildflowers growing in the lichen
and the flowers are the children who pick them
and walk on the graves.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
Waiting for the sun to rise
I feel the same as the trees
As the dew warms and dries
And drifts to the sky
The stars dance like white birds together
Through the wind of the night sky
Spelling out the wordless song
In the Universe's speckled heart
And they touch the celestial bodies of our souls
and reflects,
and returns.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
That was the day that
The starry sky above us, it's so beautiful, it's one thing we share, it's one thing that doesn't go away. I watch it turn. I give my unwhole explanation. I play a song. Not my words, they are familiar with us. The present slips away to stretch into past and future. Quite flexible, becomes the attention. It's tomorrow again tomorrow. Perhaps I'll see you soon.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
In a cage of bones:
Some little winged creature's usually there
I feel it beat its wings on the inside of my chest
And it startles the lungs-
The lovers, as the Universe-
Who taste the muse
And he feels
Knocking on the door of his cage,
Wonders how to let them go
And everything else,
Surely death would ensue,
But the next great adventure is to take me with you
Through some unknown dimensions
Time is irrelevant to whom...
But for now, do you remember the two stars above the festival in the summer?
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
Longest night of the year-- of ever? The whole world- the sun blinks. Out. Wrapped in my blanket, in darkness, deep as the soul of the earth it engulfs us, even those who hide. We are not excepted, we too are darkness. Saturated potential. All of it. Infinity: together we are everything, and nothing at all. Sink in. What will become of itself?
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Into the dimly-lit sky
the faint glowing horizon
here comes the lazy moon
skimming the ridge
I fell asleep from the purr of the darkness
and the headlights' flash
Into the warmth
dimly-lit, cozy box
like the sound of rain on the shingles
my dreams danced, falling before me
before I was
submerged in sleep
Follow my cyclical lungs
draw my body's outline
shade me in
crayon colors
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
the earth fell away behind me
but the stars didn't get any nearer
and as soon as my feet touch the ground
between me and the stars there's a cover of clouds.
sun in the morning
snow in the sky
then what will we make of the darkness that laps at our eyes?
and what else is there left to say
when truth's hardly leading the way, only changing it?
forever revolving the way
embracing the length of a day
but not dwell on it.
paint white the walls,
opportunity falls
into the dark, deep, blackness of potentials.
purpose without meaning,
motivation, no direction.
the world still exists if it's a matter of perception.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC