being of sound mind and body
I must write of the days when I was slightly ******
when I would disappear into the beautiful abyss
with headphones
'Dark Side of the Moon'
or 'I Robot' taking me on journeys
only I could take
my room the isolation tank
from 'Altered States'
my mind the well that echoed within
the sitar vibrations of an unspoken thought
my dreams the night before realized in a wave
of painted sound
and when the consciousness of awake
and the boundless landscape of sleep
fused with the lost chord
one was as close as one could be to God
on this plane

Indian pipes rise ghostly
from ancient compost
of needled tears shed
white bells corpse-silent
shunning Light’s vital touch
sleeping instead in symbiotic beds
of gracious hosts, who in turn
kiss the feet of living Giants
lushly burning gilded rays
to fuel their green economy

Please know, darling
that as you
                 slip
into your soul's abyss
my light will fill up
your darkness
like a spirit's starlit kiss
for the depth
of the black
and the distance
           mean nothing
when it comes to
           love
only our inner stars
determine what
is inside and above
So as in this chant,
                 this prayer
                     this hymn
                            of my essence
I cast forth the forces
that will make
known
    my presence
for my inner soul's nectar
is sweet water
in a state of
ever-flowing
     sometimes even tripping
      into the lip
         of your vessel
    without you
even knowing    
I am here in all ways
    except a single one
     that to look in your eyes
   is a dream rough-spun  
for aye, that physical
     has its limits,
           nonetheless
but still, from here
right into your being
          I press
my heart beating
           strong
my mind's whispers
            wild
as my fingers
stroke the hair
of your inner child
so come rest your head,
       right here,
     on my chest
Feel the tiny
quakes
that take place
as we let ourselves rest
from the world outside
from the demons within
melting the lines
of despair,
now rice-paper thin
        And our intense need
to love
and be loved
   is the true healing balm
      and now our
spirits rise up
in the night's
      lip-brushed
psalm

she moves too slow
while I'm awake
yet renders mercy
for hearts that ache
she waits in patient,
silent hope
providing light
on this slippery *****

she has no thoughts
of giving in
slows your breath
when air gets thin

and as you await
the final tide
she'll grant you a glimpse
of the other side

there is no healer
I give more faith
no more a reason
this soul can rhyme
for night and day
for every season
I cherish this gift
of time