Light, my light, the world-filling light,
the eye-kissing light,
the heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances and the sky opens,
the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
the light is generosity, is shattered into gems,
and it scatters its golden aura in profusion.

yesterday
or was it today? i can’t really tell
i saw God
more clearly than i’ve ever seen anything

She was
struggling to breath
unable to understand
why everything was pain
why She’d been so alone
away from all those She loved so much

Her eyes bleary and fading
joy erased
but we were there with Her
She could feel us again
along with Her children and sisters huddled against Her
for one last image
equally at a loss

but the last image She gave me
was when the sedative finally kicked in
and i sat face to face with Her
gently stroking Her beautiful head
She finally made sounds of joy again
or they could have been pain
but i think they were joy
and i think i saw joy again in Her eyes
i think the medicine had relieved the fear and pain
just enough for Her to feel the joy of me loving Her

but that moment was cut short
as they took Her away
i cried “goodbye sweet baby”
sweet Angel, sweet Love
then i fell apart
completely

the next time i saw God
all the life had departed from Her
all that remained for me
was Her still, beautiful form
eyes open, but lifeless
and my eyes are open, but lifeless
until I see God again

Fear
Curiosity
Which path shall I take
Opportunity endless

First step
Awareness
Body tirelessly communicates
Will I listen?

Two
Listen
What messages does it relay?
How do the past and present inform them?

Three
Decide
Which benefits me?
The bigger, timeless Me

There is hope in understanding
My neurology
and engaging joyfully
in its plasticity

Tryin’ to figure this thing out
Heart flying
Straight up leaving behind
This mind of mine
Why are we moving
And to where
Why now
Why am I so detached
From the then and the now

To be alone is desired
A sense of inner peace
And yet I couldn’t even tell you
What that means

Seeking reasons for beliefs
Supreme beings to believe in me
Some chains to bind
So I can escape and say I’m free

Clinging to the cleaning
Of inner space
Restless
Endless torment
When faced with rejection
Of expectations
Innocent sentiments
Soon cemented
Into views of how the earth
Should be

Move me, stream
Fill my lungs if you must
But I hope that I may be present
So that I can open up
Done with the dissociation
Futile, now
What once saved me as a child

I’m alive
I am here
There is so much to be done
Not to neglect portals
to Being
the Way and One

as memories of cerulean waters fade,
in autumn’s shade,
new visions unfold.

in this city of inconstancy
the air is crisper,
leaves browner
and love within a stone’s throw.

sipping golden drops of burgundy
simply smile,
cuz our bodies are now one
and our lips have locked,
as i worship you
with one hundred and eight pink lotuses.

one lotus for each secret wish of mine!

the morning moon
gives me
the devil’s wink, 😉
knowing this pristine truth.


© 2021

All the static, the noise in my head is getting louder
So unbearably loud.
And it's all I can do to convince myself, I'm okay.
They're not ALL pointing and laughing.
You are not shameful.
You're worthy.
Things are going to work out.
Things will look better.
The ground is not falling from beneath you.
Although, your knees are shaky, you're still standing.
Still pacing.
Still taking small steps forward.
Dancing with your own thoughts, as it may be.
Nonetheless, your own chaotic tango.
Just roll with it.
The dice have been rolled.
Go with the next calling.
The next thing that feels right.
Because. This. Doesn't.
I've placated myself, become complacent.
I listened to the outer noise, that which stirs unease.
Stick it out, they say.
Don't give up on this great thing.
This greatness is not my greatness.
Is not my passion, or my heart.
This 'greatness' is a grand recurring nightmare.
A grandiose headache.
Remove me.
This is not a reflection of my soul.
A stepping stone, I remind myself.
Yet, here I am in limbo, as with everything.
When does it end?
When can I stop aching for more?
In an ocean full of water, I am drifting and dying of thirst.
I call out, "Quench me."
I am done thirsting for an unknown resolve.
What on Earth is this life, this meaningless humdrum life?

LIFE

What makes life ?
Giving shape to world –
that formidable play of powers
that widens in currents
of ebbing and flowing.

There is the mirrored
immensity of self,
the dark hours of
solitary being.
Then the brevity
of a smile, the light
of a new page when
all that waits within
is shimmering with
gladness.

From the deepest beginnings
what is perceived… the music
of the meadows, the silence
of stone, the softness of evening,
the horizon cloaked in stillness.

Then the coming of day,
ready to break into being
when all creation breathes
with relief and life spreads
out hugely.

Life – the luminous net
spreading through all,
weaving together
the numberless
threads of being.

Are we only just a series of events -
a lot of dates and deeds to check off
and that says who you are? But, that
happens again and again. The ones here
now want to be here – chose to be here –
have indeed chosen and arranged
everything as it is just so. We’re all
playing roles. All showing each other
what we are.
Who will you turn to in your greatest
moment of need? They have all
betrayed you as you have betrayed
them. This is the way it’s set up for
each one to see that only One Self is
true and real. This is the only way.
So, how far will you take it, my own
heart and soul? To the ugly, bitter end
believing the programming you’ve been given?
Or, will you be what you are, rather
than repeat sleeping through reality,
and be free of the shackles of personality.

If you never prayed and cried and begged
for something unseen to intervene
and stop the horrific scene
playing out on the ***** screen of your life
Well then this poem might escape you
in all the matters that count
and maybe stop reading now
and move onto something more
the speed of those who write for writers
But since I write for me then I am
to write the words my soul speaks
not the regurgitated sayings from
the movies and shows and books and
stage plays we take for reality

There is a yearning and an aching
hole this life gives when one is born
We’re told to fill it – stuff it full
to overflowing with every kind of thing
modern 21st century Earth can bring
And we do! And then some day
we see our mountain of things
and right next to it still
staring right back at us
that gaping painful hole
Can’t fill it with sports
or jewels or trophies or quests
Can’t stuff it will ***
or money or power or laughs
or cars or houses or bricks of gold
or businesses or women or children
or even events or experiences
always the hole is just still there
 
So what? One day you may
finally tire of this old dull pain
from this open wound and you will sit
with yourself – no other will do
And you will not move from this place
until you have found and
placed in this hole the one thing
that could only fill it at all
I can’t say what that is
cuz only you’ll know
It’s made this way
A hole in each one that
only each one knows how
to fill in each one’s own way
Only by knowing
one’s own Self
completely all the way