The moment
the feeling
the thought
the act
the words to say
and to avoid-
the beyond-self view
of life and of others
this then
should be the theme
of my religion
the daily engagement--

I have no place verily
for worship
but in this immediacy--

life
a brief interlude
before the curtain's fall
that which we are
or not
is the story and plot
we could count
to be a little of something
or nothing at all.

The river flowed fast in its shallow shadow
Cluster of primroses and wild daffodil waves
As they bloom in undying joy and awful laughter
Caressing breeze forms a ripple in my body

As my eyes caught the shining leaves
as a glass in the sun my ears listen to my heart
How beautiful, beauty clarifies one heart desire to fall
As I walk on the shape, color and texture of her skin

The quiet sound of rippling water screamed
Her mind stirred thoughts of happy love
Is this the lost rib, my heart so inclined
That lifted the river of warm thought in me

Silver sheen of admiration
grows like ***** willows
As I leaned out of the water of thoughts
love sheltered the valley as winter sun

****** of first flowering green so visible
love introduces so much pain in my heart
For it is an empty path that tempts a heart
To climb so fastly instead of slowly

Written by
Martin Ijir

Mum
has
worked
hard
all
the
day
say
thank
you

But we are not our own any more
other selves live within us
deviously shaping our psyche
bit by bit, surreptitiously too
(but we are unaware)
like unwelcome weeds
that invade the greenness
of our lush inner field
and devour the flowers therein
like a blanket of dark clouds
shutting away the light
that once was solely our own
like a slow-acting virus
eating into our system
we wake up one day
to discover we have become
a hybrid self
no longer authentic
but synthetic -
our thoughts are not our own
we are the voice of other selves
their language we echo
like well-trained domestic parrots

what are we then
without our-ness
our oneness
our right to being?