OH tortured souls,
How well do I know you..
My heart has been shattered,
Exploded into irrepressible bits
From loving you so much.
Once annihilated,
I was able to bear the burden of
This exquisite Existence.
God help me,
I had to became nothing
To be one with all.

Your time will come
When least expected.
When you've all but thrown in the towel
finish line in sight,
the agony of defeat
at your door

This is why you must persevere;
Because all those times
When you were doing things right
And nothing worked out.
When you put in the hard work,
But no one seemed to care..
That time when you learned what it meant
to put your best face forward,
Or your pure heart,
And have it crushed in unforgiving ground
Under sullied shoes - by careless men
Or just cruel and callous  life herself -
The time when you were dragged through the dirt
for endless miles
And came up broken, hardened and brittle
You were weary, blood stained,
With a bridge-less abyss ahead
And cold ashes of a dim hope left.

You still kept your light.

-
Those times
Were but a sentence
Served in the name of resilience
A training ground for
purity of heart
And true resolve.
A battlefield
where Your warrior spirit
Was put to the test.
In a stadium
Where a silent crowd
cheered you on.

-

Now that you've allowed all to take its course
Yes, when you finally lost everything!
You will find all you had efforted for
will come to you with ease

Your touch will
Manifest abundance
Your thoughts manifest understanding
Your breath manifest Compassion
Your vision manifest light.

The time has come
When it is asked of you to accept
That all you touch
will turn to gold

It is the golden rule
That is yours alone...
The ray that honours you.

Now is the time
To learn to
Rejoice
And receive your glorious victory,
Hard earned and
gallantly sought,
with
Graceful Ease.

I transform
Each time
You read me
~
I am alive

We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.

We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.

My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:

We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.

In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.

years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
                                                         ­           often isn’t.

Words are empty
Unless you mean what you say
I surmised one still, moonless night.
Even as early spring beckons outside my door
my heart
remains devoid.
-
-
I take my vow of silence, solemnly.
Hiding Behind the glass pane
Waiting..
for tangled feelings
Webbed and aged by neglect
to unravel,
inevitably,
and stir my pen.