A long day,
A winding valley,
Between two ancient cliffs.
A song of a sparrow breathes through the air.

A lone traveler,
Along the dusty road,
Formed by man's sweat, blood, and bone.
Living on until it fades.

Nothing in this lonely place,
Will survive the plague of time.
For in each long lost memory,
Everything will die.

The sparrow song stops, stilled by death,
The winding valley loses its shape.
The two towering peaks tumble into weeds,
And what is becomes what was.

More and more
I am less and less
frustrated and bothered
by the nuances of life.

They are only slight catalysts and alarms.
I see now they wake me up to slow
to stop
to rest
and sit.
Always the opposite of what I’m told.
Everything flip flops.
So don’t be afraid when you see things upending.

He said - There is no record of you or I in the emptiness.
And so one works to make an eternity
here in this play.
It is not so.
Everything is now.
You as you are cannot exist
again or at some other time.

Even this journal these words
that your hands seem to write.
You don’t know what they are - not really.
This pen - ink.
It means a thing to you.
But after this you is gone
this in a way ceases to be.
You cannot preserve this poem - or any.
Those that remain remain as the Self.
All else is a distortion
a form
a compression
a mold.
How can the infinite squeeze into a mold?
Look here not away.
Make no image of a creator you cannot see.
Dare to face the truth of this existence -
of your life - if you dare call it yours.

I see that all is futile
struggle to attain what I am.
Possession is not a real state of being.
To possess implies subject
and object. All is one.
To be at peace in this body -
to know finally the truth -
this is heaven.
No other state exists.
The world is frightening indeed
for one who knows not what she is.
I hear a voice calling from far.
The voice is my own Self.
This is the voice of Eternity.
Beyond is only silence
only stillness
only emptiness
only space.
All comes from this.

They clap our backs, nod their heads
Look down and distant smile
When we tug at their t-shirts
And ask to be heard

Their gazes wander, and block their ears
Sneak a look at the television
They sit us down, telling us to talk
And in between, stand up when their phones ring

They tell us that you will do great things some day
That the world rests upon your hands
You will climb to the top and pull each other up
But keep pushing us down instead

They tell us that you are the future
And dive out of our thoughts
They think it is an excuse
For sizing us up, and declaring us not enough

Not yet, they say. Not now, they murmur
Have you ever thought that
We don't want to be the future
Because we need to be the present?

That we don't want to lead the world
But instead, just live in it?

That before we want to do things that are great
We just want to live in a world that is?

Anxious.
Feeling insufficient.
Knowing I'm insufficient.
Wanting insufficiency.
Not quite sufficient.
Comparing and contrasting.
Contrasting.

Wanting acceptance to be my most authentic self.
What is my most authentic self?
Where do I find her?

Focusing on the next milestone.
Getting there and doing the same.
What do we meet at the milestone?
Will be happy will be content will be accepted will be winning,
at the next milestone.

How do you live in the present moment?
What is the present moment?

you're thinking too ******* much

Hard lines, sharp edges
would like to wash the harshness away
My maturity nudges me to stay
to breathe and
face these aspects
You are not me
yet I feel like I'm blowing away

A large deep breath
as I remain and allow
I walk and move
shifting energy around

Heavy focus dazed in and out
I allow myself
I open now
I feel myself challenged again and again,
but I remain here
present, staring

you straight in the eye.
My creation
buckles under my gaze
it tries to play games
but it cannot sustain.

My stomach churns,
skin chilled yet burns
But I remain.
Here, observing
Never truly fading

Burned away
in a fiery haze
yet
I still Remain.

Leather straps pulling
me tighter
constricting my breath.
I pull myself into
the thick gravitation
of what they think it
means to live.
Countless experiences pass
where I question
the sanity
which bestows my heart, the wisdom
of my soul.
The mind drowns out
the true inner knowing
"No more", I softly declare
in a calm soft whisper.
I cut through confusion of
the dizzying self-doubt.
Gracious servitude naturally
here, allowing myself
the space to be.

What is happening to you?
Says who?
Who asks this question?
Person, you are melting;
Being extinguished in the light of love = Truth.
What you really are.
Not who you have been.
...led to believe you are.
You -
are a mask.
I am -
All that is real.
You, like a coat of paint over old wall-paper.
I can scrape you off.
No matter how many coats of varnish.
Trying to lacquer on layers to make you look strong
and secure and untouchable.
You mislead your customers:
UV protection does not guard against true light.
Who can defend against itself?
Only a fool believes this is true.

So, so much superfluous stuff.
Who needs it.
But, I don’t.
Who craves it.
But, I am fed.
Who yearns and desires and lusts
for more and different and higher -
Oh! Always deeper and harder and higher!
But, I am full
already of the emptiness
I am.
Who knows nothing of this that I am.
And, I am also beyond this doubt
and so who can know everything
in the world there is to know
and still know nothing of the universe
one is in being.

Riddles, oh Riddles
and sensical unsensed rhythm
of my lost rhyme.
These words mean not a thing;
just the universe tied in string.
All may be lost
and whatever would that mean?
Whatever could that bring?
Only lost in this illusory dream
Catch a ride
Catch a wave
See? See how easy it is to get caught?

Today marks one month of sobriety.
I’m happy with myself I’m staying clean.
I’m experiencing first hand why getting clean seems like an insurmountable task,
why it’s inherently formidable.
It’s not because of the task of getting clean itself, its because of everything that’s in my face while I’m clean-
the trauma, the distressing emotions & thoughts, the self defeating conditioning. It’s all clear as day, it’s inescapable now.