I wonder if ever people feel my absence.
Searching for my face,
Tracing my unique traits.



I’m not the biggest one in the room.
Neither physically nor spiritually.
But is my absence felt?



During a meeting with a few friends.
In certain classes where I raise my hands.
Was my absence ever felt?

In death
I will die
And my body will rot
From the rot
Flowers shall grow
Piercing through my skull
And my blood shall seep
Deep into the earth
The flowers will hold me
My very essence
And my soul shall rise
A creature of shadow and stars
Bones and blood
Dark as night
Bright as the North Star
I shall walk among humans
Unseen
But there I will be.
Like the stars
No purpose
No reason
Just being.
And you will hear
My songs and whispers
Every time you visit my grave
I will greet you with the wind
And with the foxes that come by
My body is not buried under stone
It is forgotten in a forest
But not forgotten
For the trees will forever remember
For the grass will have intertwined
For I have sunk into the earth
And with the moon I will glow.
So when I die
Please do not cry
Do not fear
For I will be here
Watching over you
And it will be hard
To move on
But you must take that step
And take a big breath
For I will be here
Guiding you from the stars
The moons
The planets
The cosmos
The skies
The earth
The wind
The plants
My body is one with the world around us
And when you die
I will greet you with open arms
Dressed in the forest
The same familiar face
The night in my hair
The shadows in my eyes
The seas in my tears
The sun's warmth in my arms
And we will walk
The earth
The skies
The cosmos
Hand in hand
I will hold the world in my palms
And show you the beauty of life
In death.

rolling down his cheeks. He wipes
me off with the back of his hand. But I
stand in peaks like whipped cream
inside of his glands. I'm the spicey taco

he wolfed down. And I'll hang around burning
him late at night when my sauce still lingers
but is out of sight. And just like the snot
flying out of his sneeze I'll dance pirouettes

in the tang of a breeze. I’m the needles
and pins when he cannot feel his toes. I’m
the itch that he scratches inside of his
clothes. And he thinks that he’ll pass me

out the other end like gas that escapes him
in the wind. But I'm the scab that covers him
when he's skinned his knees. Stuck to him like a
dog with fleas. There’s no getting rid of me – no release!

God doesn't say give up your sin
And maybe then we'll talk
What he says is take hold my hand
And let's go for a walk

I'll be with you through the trying times
As you put your faith in me
I'll help you live the best of life
Where you'll come to see, it's me you need

You'll recognize the worlds agenda
As being no place for a righteous man
Where Satan and his minions
Are creating chaos in this bedlam

To try and turn you away from God
Where we were all born to belong
Using the sin in all of us
To the point where it all goes wrong

God's mercy and grace gives us the choice
Whether or not we will be free
I my friend can only hope
The choice you choose is to believe

By taking hold the hand of God
And going for a walk
Where you'll come to understand the love
He has for all of us

What is it to bring

forth, what's inside you?

A direct question,

without a single want for

answer.

Mountain tops are nice.

You can fit two nostrils

there.

“It is myth that God questions us. God is Pure Consciousness, reflecting mistakes & well doing. God guides the Soul’s evolution. We face Him-Her when free from garb. To stand ***** is to know that we learnt our lessons, completed our soul contract with Divinity, graduating onto next rung, into a progressive mission or completely merge into Oneness.” GhairoDanielsQuotes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death is a best friend
she visits often to dissolve old cells
tweak dioxyribonucleic acids  
carrying silver sword and bamboo pipe
to draw breath, pointing to moon
caped in indigo velvet with hood
her whispers are silent breath on
white linen pillow

I invite her to sit on my bed
she admires an octagonal quilt red
removing her cape, accepting offering
of camomile tea, her eyes smiling hollows  hyena, warrior, eagle, dung beetle
all at once, elegantly slow she settles
closer, ******* my ears, cold breezes
ripple down my legs

With sidelong glance she asks :
“So what is your claim to fame ?”
I reply : “I know not a name. Fame is
a shadowy flame, an orange-purple
one flickering to become lame.
All the same, I claim to be the highest
version of what Source intended
nothing more, nothing less.
This is free fame, oxygenated.
That is my game, if insane, let it not
be a shame, or a blame.”
Smiling, she asks next : “How have
you helped fellow humans ?”  

I reply : “With Pluto Sun squared as
a dominant in my Chart, I undertook to
integrate escaping gloom into Light for
Self and others. As God granted Ketu
long periods of rulership over my form
I pulped Self in backwaters, where
angels fear to tread, to be a Presence
for fellow humans.”

Her hollow eyes with high cheekbones
move closer to my face. Sipping from floral teacup, fingers spindly, she asks :
“How ***** will your spine be before
THE ALL ?”
I reply : “Not as ***** as when I practiced kundalini and hatha yoga, though I detect
zero regrets, bereft of debts, slate clean
as an uncooked bean.”

Laughing, she replies that Divinity
will be pleased with my use of poetics
whispering : “Know that your spine will
revert to 21 years when I draw your
breath into mine, to gently carry to
Divine. You will sway on your way
into a ringlet bay of rosy everlasting days.
17 more good cheer years, hear my Dear.”

I watch quick footsteps across the
garden path. A thoughtform follows
slender caped back : “My claim to fame
is to be what ****** desires me to be  
~ Co-Creator of my own destiny.”

Next time Death visits, I will word it this way.

______

*[new poetic form: L&N : Letters & Numbers]