Past is never forgotten;
time only teaches
how to live with it.

The future is not free
from the clutches
of the past.

Past is a mirror
within the soul—
unbroken,
omnipresent,
always there
to remind us
of what is left behind.

A mind cracked wide open will show,
that wisdom can drip, thick and slow to flow.
Though yolk paints the smiling face,
it’s a bright, messy, an awkward grace,
For one thing I know: egg on your face helps you grow.

I met a pen in the middle of the rain,
it twirled on its tip
and whispered my name.
It scribbled sideways,
upside-down,
to the side,
painting its wonders on the walls of my mind.

My thoughts, obsessed, chased logics in spirals,
round staircases of clocks and giggling virals.
Every thought hopped on a carousel of dreams,
leaping through windows,
swimming through golden thread streams.

My tongue was tied in bundles of velvet,
it wanted to dance but needed a helmet.
It hummed to the daisies,
it hummed to the moon,
it hummed to the echo of an old silver spoon.

Memories tumbled from teapots and chairs,
carrying wondrous wonders,
dancing, daring, and rare.
A city of feathers,
a river of light,
pianos that grew wings and took flight in the night.

The pen leapt and pirouetted,
possessed on some tree,
my mind spun on mirrors of impossibilities glee.
The tongue finally laughed,
though softly, though small,
and I saw the world spinning,
wondrous,
through a wondrous all.

The crisp air day starts a morning field,
Green blades of olive rise, scattered songs they yield,
Dew-kissed thoughts, trembling, they hold the light,
Stretching tall in the earth’s delight.

Black and white wanderers graze,
Patchwork coats against the emerald haze,
Eyes soft, chewing slow, cud right
reflecting skies from morn to night,
Their presence calm, no words they tell,
unaware of life or the living hell.

Trees around stand guard in shades,
Chew only the sweetest blades.
Some lush, some tall, none are bare,
A sky of gentle blue-white unfurls in the air,
Painting peace on this screen in grace,
Their tongue do lick upon their face.

Grass bends with secrets of the wind,
Whispers of the meadow where sunlight thinned,
Wildflowers hidden, bees, birds, and bugs,
Brought upon golden hugs,
And all the world alive, aware,
Breathes in rhythm, and slow they stare.

I wrote a word and let it go,
A seed it was, I did not know;
It fell to earth in secret ground,
And there a living tree was found.

I gave a word to one long dead,
It rose to life and gave them bread;
I whispered low, the branches grew,
And clothed the land in morning dew.

I read a word that made them glow,
I took a word and watched it grow;
It bore a fruit I could not see,
Yet filled the world with mystery.

I spoke a word I can’t take back,
It darkened sky and turned it black;
The fruit was sweet, the poison whole,
It sowed a storm that stole a soul.

I saw love wearing shoes in the rain,
but it dripped backwards and was fire.
She handed me a hand full of worms
and told me it was my heart.

I tried to kiss her shadow as it faded
the shadow starred at me first.
It began as we argued with the moon
about whether silence could bleed.

A staircase appeared,
spiraling into my throat.
Every word trembling,
I climbed until I reached halfway
and there she was,
sitting at a table of clocks,
feeding time to the dead
Pigeons.

She said:
“Every orchard is an eye.
Every fruit, a dream.”
Then she gave me a mask
made of feathers and mirrors,
and whispered:
“Now love will see through you.”

The sea tried to listen,
tried to feel,
tried to touch,
but it had no ears,
it had no hands,
just a mouth wide open lips,
so it swallowed itself instead.
While looking on in disbelief
I drowned on dry land,
laughing,
Laughing at all that was once before
because now her perfume
tasted like absence,
and every word a song,
that I knew the melody,
but had forgotten to sing
She just smiled
as she would walk on bye.

Love is not love
this is madness
it is a map that eats itself,
a candle flickering that refuses to die,
a bizarre adventure,
a journey for the travelers of the lost,
A begin with no ending,
only doors
that open into other doors,
and every memory another oil painting nailed to the walls of the mind.

I am held by Nature, her hand of love winding round me,
our forms entwined, one with the other,
breathing as one, flowing like a river over quiet stone,
lovers of eternity in a single pulse.

In the moment I feel my dual nature: mortal in flesh, immortal in spirit,
deathless yet bound to Fate’s unseen hand,
soaring above the Harmony, yet within it still bound,
we are sleepless yet overcome by sleep,
children of the unceasing Flow,
wandering in this world.

O Mind within me, teach me the Secrets Untold,
reveal the Mystery of the Universe that waits beyond all hearing,
And a quiet voice stirs within me:

“Nature in union with us brings forth many wonders, maybe even sevenfold,
moving with the breath of air,
formed from Fire and Spirit, echoing the concord of the Seven.”

Earth as woman, longing in her waters deep,
ripeness flowing from Fire, spirit given by Aether,
Nature shapes the forms to suit our essence,
and we from Light and Life become soul and mind,
from Life to soul, from Light to mind,
and all the world’s cycles turn,
endless in birth and return.

The Secrets Untold flows through us,
the Mystery of the Universe whispers:
“Find your existence in all,
magnificence of what there is and isn’t,
and you, who hold Mind within, know yourself as deathless,
for Love may bring death, yet Love is all.

In this moment those who know themselves will transcend the weight of abundance,
those who love only flesh will wander in Darkness,
bound by senses, consumed by death.”

The Truth, perhaps there is an Unseen that's walks quietly with all when they are pure,
closing the doors of desire,
turning our souls from shadowed currents,
shielding us from the body-bound snares,
lifting us toward illumination,
toward the quiet song of the eternal.

When we stray, when Mind is absent,
the Avenging Daimon rushes fire upon fire, Ash upon Ash, desire unending, striving in Darkness,
yet even this teaches the path,
revealing the need to return,
to know, to rise.

We dissolve into the Way Above,
our bodies returning to their source,
passion and desire retreating,
and we ascend through zones of Harmony,
shedding arrogance, falsehood, unrighteous striving,
clothed in our true knowledge drawn to the Eighth,
hymning the eternal, surrendering,
becoming one with the flowing Forces of the Universe.

This is when we awaken to ourselves,
ceasing from sleep and drunkenness,
forsaking the Darkness, embracing Deathlessness,
drinking the Deathless Water, cups from the old pools,
seeing with the soul’s eye, speaking the Secrets Untold,
stretching our hearts to the unutterable Silence,
moving ever toward Life and Light,
alive as the cosmos made us, attuned as it is,
and we are One with the eternal,
flowing without end.