An eagle flies high, beyond the mind's sky,
above the purple dawn over the Himalayan snow white  it flies,
soaring above the trident peak, where Shiva with Shakti dance
to be one with the essence of all, in resonance with the cosmos.

~

she, the girl
in a polka dot dress;
his, the heart
that beats in distress;
another day gone,
he's missed her again;
is there a future
in which they can win?
a picture in a frame
for the two of them?

connecting dots
the way we do,
its a wonder
that we ever
find the path
that's north and true;
and pick our way,
connecting points
that lead us back to you!

he went left
when he should've
gone right;
dot connecting
at its worst!
shouldn'ta been there
in the middle of the night.
i'd be lying  
if i told you
this time was his first!

connecting dots
the way we do,
its a wonder
that we ever
find the path
that's north and true;
and pick our way,
connecting points
that lead us back to you!

she pokes-at-dots,
she paints by number,
his dots and dashes
like morse code.
all to her seems so random,
though they're not
and right choices
go the distance;
a true heart
will always win!

connecting dots
the way we do,
its a wonder
that we ever
find the path
that's north and true;
and pick our way,
connecting points
that lead us back to you!

~

*post script.

same dots,
different picture;
same story,
different day;
wrong connections
change the future,
why then do we wish
we'd gone the right way?

Our hearts skip a beat
when fed with the delusion
that we have time in this world
to possess.  
Like a child
we think we own the burning flame
of the candle
standing with no attention
to arrest.  
We are content to be lured in every season
And still yet,
the skies of ourselves
never rests.

We keep our eyes closed,
looking for some other way
to find
everything there is.
Irrespective
of how the sun holds our hands.  
Still,  gently we leave in place
an ache
that prepares us
for the broken windows in our lives
to be like feathers  
with a present
of living free
without demands.

~

I caught the sun
running me in circles,
collecting clouds
on the last day of the month
watching grass grow
between the cracks
in my mind,
still dizzy
from the chase