You gave birth to me
yet I have never been born
I am alive
yet never taken a single breath

I have been caught up in currents of time
yet this moment remains eternally still
I have traveled miles across this land
yet never taken a single step

I have had infinite conversations
yet never spoken a word
embraced many loved ones
yet never touched a single soul

I have cried oceans of tears
desperately searching for love
blindly unaware what I was seeking
was looking through my eyes

I have grieved a magnitude of losses
yet lost nothing at all
felt desperately alone
yet everywhere I looked, there I was

countless lifetimes
incalculable deaths
I am billions of galaxies in the Cosmos
yet I remain infinite emptiness

"I'm the truth" echoed
Mansur effaced his ownself
He was crucified

I have come to realize that
we, humans,
have a religion-shaped hole
in all of our hearts.
What do you fill yours with?

If you donate, keep both of your hands open
Purify your mind and soul, and depend on legal earning.

Donate with the right hand
The left hand should not know,
Don't expect anything in return
With your donation.

The power to give is from the Creator
You could be the selected one, not everyone,
Brings peace in the midst of charity
Pacifies the heart.

That which is possible on one’s part
So let's donate,
He is the owner for your capacity
He will give the honor.

Does true Love stretch across the canvas of Time and echo in the deepest recesses of our soul, unearthing every memory that was lost in our transitions. From one life to the next, a faint glimpse of what we once knew, guiding us back to each other like a constellation only seen by our eyes.

the wall painted black
wells out to become a dark room
when one admits-
he knows not
what he is looking at

the mystery of a world
designed beyond design
conceived beyond thought
created- not made

within man is fear-
fear that at the end,
he knows not the world
he thought he so conquered

one no longer is limited-
by a black wall of pride
but in humble unknowing
one explores an eternal dark room

the idiot only gazes into the abyss
against its maw in grit-
the fool shoots to miss
the point, however...


...is to walk around it

She was born with the brightest eyes like the first dawn of spring
Her soul was a precious gift meant to be kept and held tight by only herself


The dawn eyes turned to a summers green leaves
She held tight to her soul letting in only goodness and hope


The eyes that mirrored the trees began to fall like the leaves in autumn
Although she tried to keep her soul for herself she began to give small pieces to those undeserving


Those eyes that were once filled with color were frozen like the coldest winters day
A soul that once was her most precious gift was lost and soon forgotten

"Only a temporary awareness can know something finite."
~Robert Spira

My child, let your life come into the world of darkness
like a spark of light, without flicker and pure,
and thank them in silence.
You know, my child, they are cruel in their greed and envy,
their words are disguised knives thirsting for blood.
But do not be afraid, my child, go and stand in their hearts,
and let your gentle eyes fall on them
like the forgiving serenity of the night.
My child, let them see your face and so they know it
meaning of all things, let them love and love one another.
Go, at sunrise, open and lift up your heart like a blooming flower, and at sunset, bend your head
and silently complete the worship of the day.
Remember, my child, gods and demons,
ghosts and elves are fragments of one,
built by the hand of the abyss.
So, move on, go to the shore of the vast darkness,
there, is the Great Meeting of Children,
there, the sea gives a smile to the beach,
there, sing the waves facing death.

flashes in the dark.
matches scratch,
little fires arise.
bread browns,
fish sizzle,
the scent of coffee boiled in cans.

a clatter of knives,
tobacco clouds,
a lapping on the rocks.

before,
that vastness of sea.
behind,
the frozen wastes;
that barren of broken dreams.

they are so very far from home.

one stands,
watches,
points an arm toward the glow
of crimson afar.

they cross themselves,
ready the tackle
and stand,
knowing they may not return

but hunger is unkind,
and death makes no exceptions
for sailors.