The folly of children is better than the wisdom
Of men.  Be humble.  Lean not unto your own
Understanding but rather travel to Another  place
Innocent beyond all your knowing-beyond your humility
Travel in dreams and revery to your childhood unremembered
Heedless go unasked to that other place of first times-traveling
Until you are born again and you know not what was before
Let go all the pride of knowing for it cannot take you to there




Now turn again to love and to be loved; and crying say I am  And should
A day  far hence come to you bearing too great a burden of pride of knowing Here is How It will end You must be born again for the first and only time.  

For My Mother who sweetly told me
I should not be such a little "know it all"
Dear Mother Happy Mother's Day
Wherever you are...my heart is...

Remember
Forget
Remember to forget
Forget to remember
Eternal life must be
Lived one moment at a time
War Plague Famine The end
Nostradamus be ******
With every happy thought
Every piece of bread that
I hungrily eat.  Thankfully
I praise God for His grace
His goodness His salvation
For the gift  of  life with all
Its promise yet to be; written
In His blood Love's Victory




For Ira a priest of David
My friend  in Berkeley California
From Brooklyn  N. Y; Morning Star
Commune  Long time ago...

I think we keep each other alive with
just the hope that we will be together
Again-Something to live for; and if it is...
Without resolution that we cannot die
Before we say  hello good bye again
I pray you do not go away; and that I
May live that you may live-  we may
Live that our love may live 'n if only
In that rippling silence of forever. You
Knowing I love you I knowing you love
Me If only that be true it is enough if it
Be Our Father's will Thy will be done

The morning sun in the afternoon is
Transcendent as it bends back time
To the heart's desires to harvest all
The things left undone.  One time
Is not enough for all of God's Glory.



for my daughter bubbling water in the
Spring remember me.....

It is not what you think
It is a new dance,  It happens
In another place.  You see
Something you want but you
Are hurried on.  The song is
Mute, of memories made
No rhyme or reason.  Free.
It cannot be remembered
Grace and perfection are lost
Sought again.  I see a pouting
Face oh so cute-she is calling
Me - says  come you can-
Come and dance with me