To all work together, we need not agree.
Each has their mission, some of us three.

Bridges over puddles, the buddha might say.
Help all the lost, since they’re not far away.

The gift you’ll be given, if honest and true.
Showing you all the things, youcan now do.

Use inner knowledge, filling your cup.
Notice how time has begun to speed up.

Love and compassion, given today.
Expands never ending, on the middle way.

Go away, somewhere deep inside
Far away, like the direction of my eyes

To you I scribe these words of grace
& pray you reach that golden place,
the one beyond the world we live- a place that transcends time.
A place to move through, with the brightness of peace-            all places

Untill we reach that
faithfull destination
Of our dreams.

Though we've got direction-
The destinations never been clear.
Regardless, onwards we march
with confident discretion
Revel, in the thought -
togetherness; connection.

the planets will align
every once in awhile
to arraign all who need
or are deserving of it
those who find themselves
treading the wrong path
those who can no longer
see what lies ahead
despite all those
gazing upwards
     silently questioning
these immaterial messages
will be overlooked
unheeded by the majority
only recognised by the few
comprehended by even fewer

this singular occurrence
rare and rarefied
may be explainable
in its most basic sense
logistically
     empirically
to even the layman
it is but a simple matter
of timings and orbits
calculations of gravity
versus mass and inertia
but that which truly matters
the universal push and pull
will leave even
the most discerning of minds
in the dark

perhaps the moth
simply doesn't know
the strength of
its own wings
but the way it flutters
seemingly erratic
        in its choices
never straight forward
        in its direction
can be infuriating at times
as those silken sails
appear to force it
where none expect it to be
in disjointed circles
often far off course
only occasionally
will it find itself
exactly where it should be
whether accidentally
         or by design
its every path is filled
with calculated corrections
revisions and redress
in order to reach
its intended
that source of light
one way or another

Rowing isn't for me.
Nor drifting aimlessly.
I'd rather raise my sails,
for rowing isn’t for me.
I prefer to let the winds prevail
whether light draft or force 10 gale.
No, rowing isn’t for me.
Nor drifting aimlessly.

like two cars
at a crossroad junction
we glided into different
paths

You'll find pointlessness

when you search from the outside --


for any purpose.