I work in the white palace
Input, output, no ripple
in my body, my mind
remains calm, whatever I do

In between I experience the silence
in the red palace rooms
that I can always enter
wherever I am

There I open my skull
into a cup and I experience
myself, let love flow
to what occupies me

There I also look at the lives
of my loved ones, of strangers
and of the people I meet
I embrace them with many arms

of tenderness

Don’t worry yourself, purrs Negative Voice
I'm telling you this to protect you
No lead in your pencil
So pointless in fact
No person of worth would respect you

    Dear Negative Voice,
       I see what you mean
       But just a brief point for reflection
       I’m not sure I’m really an absolute waste
       Consider some minor correction?

It’s better for you, coos Negative Voice
To know that you’re practically useless
No rain in your storm cloud
So juiceless in fact
You’re toothless, inept, and excuseless

    Dear Negative Voice,
       A stirring reply
       Is this in totality truthful?
       I’m sure my ineptitude has measured bounds
       And even just sometimes, I’m useful

The beauty of living this version of truth
Is, you are at maximum harm
Nothing they’re possibly saying to you
Will add to your sense of alarm

Providing agreement to monster-y ones
Might also afford added aid
Appeasing and easing an excessive ego
May downgrade a wailing cascade

    Dear Negative Voice,
       Deep thanks for your thoughts
       A note of some gentle resistance
           I notice I’m having the thought that I’m worthless
           Historically helpful, but now with no purpose
       Distinct in my voice, yours holds limited purchase    
       So now I can give you some distance
           I humbly suggest
           This grateful request
       For inner, more peaceful existence

Travel free my inner scapegoat
You’re liberated, off this hook
No more shame-horned
Guilt-stomached dread,
       scarce enough to wrong-bare
Not startle-sneezed or tremble-shook

I excise redundant remnants
Bad wattle glands where crime hangs large
Not Billie-blame,
Nanny-regret
       or just a wrongless kid
No fair-trial felon, biased charge

Imagine dropping heavy torts
The solid clunk as fault hits floor
Past carried light
Kind compassion
       wide enough to weight-bare
Rich mixed plant pasture evermore
An end to serveless inner war

Adulthood is the

hard skin against feelings of --


gentle compassion.

All that we are

      Our love  
  
      Our faith
    
      Our joy

These are the skin that covers.
Bones and ligaments to join
and organize structure.
Blood that sustains and nourishes life.

All that we are

      Our hate      

      Our doubt    

      Our grief

Pores to let protective skin breath.
Marrow to create nourishing stream.
Veins to channel crimson flow.

Negative benign yet indispensable
Without which is lump of flesh

      Love working in hate

      Faith in doubt

      Joy in grief

Willing to bleed    
Willing to feel

Ready and willing
To be human -- without fear

     Our trust

     Our compassion  

     Our virtue

Animation in our motionless bodies.
Cross-fertilization in super-natural selection.
Elements of dark and beautiful metamorphosis.

Denied too often  

Misunderstood

Food of the gods      

All that we are

Essence of the ever-changing  universe

I am open to receive love, kindness and compassion.