New breath fills her lungs with the air of a world that does not know her.
So quietly does she lie in her mothers' arms:
A new light that shines on the earth today,
Bright with a peaceful radiance so wanting in the world.
Filled with the grace of  purity she stepped into our lives,
Ready to teach her lesson to those who would join her in tranquility:
So prepared to bare life's mantle, she greeted the world with a quiet sigh
Of one who understood its noise and hustle, but quietly smiled with wise eyes.



Oh Satya live up to your name
Your mothers have given you with great insight!
That you might show all the world your love
And that we might learn from your power and your light.

The crowd
Of decaying walls
Whose roof that united them
In common interest,
Belief,
Prosperity,
Has collapsed into the ground
Leaving them stranded:
Searching for someone to blame
As they crumble in the rain.

Out of isolation come the walls
To stand in city streets
Chanting slogans,
Holding placards,
Walking alone
Though with each other.

Between them
All bonds lie broken:
Each one stands
In contradiction with the crowd,
But walks with it
In self-righteous anger
That divides them even as it unites.

This movement stands afraid
To question
To answer
To find
An answer to their anger
For fear of what it might unbind…

Walk
Down cracked sidewalks but forget where and why the going started.
Lost in the chaos of moving feet whose unity lies in their organic flow,
Perspectives shift to some new truth: experiencing its constant displacement.

Here
As bodies carry me forward, they rush to the rhythm of those who desire our desires:
I smile and laugh at voices screaming out from billboards and TVs
“What you need is need itself! Don’t look within, but to ME!”


Drift
Down the street and pause at the window’s reflection.
Behind the still face staring back lies the world’s movement:
With purpose distorted by its realization, the present bursts forth out of nothing:
Pushing
Onward from some inconceivable lack,
Towards a resolution that will not resolve.  

Here I close my eyes.
Here there is the silence between thought and its realization:
In which the meaninglessness of boundaries can be discerned.
Here I find myself fall away into everything.
Here I find only Love.

The inlets
Wrap around the water
Writhing in the fury of the ocean’s waves,
Obscuring the distance they reveal
To the eyes that gaze absent mindedly
Down their beaches and their cliffs.

Indifferent to the conflict below,
The sun blazes down
But the winds cleanse the skin of its heat
As they are driven from the sea.

The sea that breaks the stoic rocks
And casts the sand’s lonely grains
-Along with the many homeless winds-
Across the beaches which *****
At the feet of their stony bluffs.

But the cliffs stand in austere grandeur
Defiantly surveying the endless waters
Whose numerous, ceaseless, enduring waves
Are kept at bay by the towering unity.

I am of the wind that has no home
In the conflict of sea and land
I am the sun that lights this vision:
Firmament of hills, sea and sand.

Tides come and go but never leave me
Sands shift in time but never deceive me
As sun I shine light on all at hand:
This ceaseless meeting of sea and land.

The wanderer follows
No hallowed path
Set forth for her
By the sagacious few.
Nor does she live
To build her past
For far off futures
Whose seeds are sewn.

No familiar face
Has she ever seen
That greets her where
She decides to sleep
But travels with
The wind in her hair:
The only companion
She chooses to keep.

All empires return
To dust that birthed
Them from the nothingness
Of barren ground,
And push the ambitious
To build them tall
For fleeting futures
On foundations unsound.

Such men still laugh
At one like her
Who possesses nothing
In their eyes,
And lives in chaos
Of shifting destiny
With no respect
For human lies.

But no future goal
Controls her fate
Nor worldly tethers
Bind her past
So she is free
To contemplate
Her relation to
The earth so vast.


She is the dust
from God’s fingers
that’s fallen on
Ungrateful land
And shows the blind
And sinful people
Their origin from
The present at hand.

They deride and mock
Or at best ignore her
And value what God
Did not confer
But she is more
than the earth and sky
And none can take
What belongs to her.

Sitting at a café
Over the smell of coffee
Scents of car fumes, ***** and ****
Worm their way into your nose.

The men, women, children
Pass you by without a glance
Each one on their own way
As uncaring feet pound pavement.

Indifferent people in expensive suits
Walk by tourists objectifying with cameras
Who accidently capture in their frames
The cold and the old slouching through the streets.

Even relaxing at the table
You feel caught up in the streaming crowds
As if you were being swept away
By these forces fighting for control.

As you sit as idle observer
To the worried pace of the city streets
You can sense the blind and frantic power
Of those who feed off our illusion.

(This illusion lies in each of us
When we close our eyes to the waking world
And believe that we could be happy
In our isolation from reality)

You can see it in the passers-by
Whose eyes focus intently ahead:
Afraid to look at other faces
As if they feared the connection.

Many imprison themselves in aesthetics
Of glass steel towers looking down on the earth
And drive isolation’s grim repetition
In a hopeless effort to make their own world.

Our illusion puts them there
When we do not question the surrounding order
Whose existence allows us to live in comfort
Insulating our delusions.

Our ignorance demands their ignorance
Which caters to our selfishness
And divides the passing days
With the rhythm of their control.

Their thoughts structure steel geography
That dreams that it could scrape the sky
And make its mark on the heavens
By countermanding nature’s will.

But nature stands indifferent to
Man’s attempt to supersede
Its will that gives to him his arrogance
That leads him towards his own destruction.

But I call you from this nature now
To return with me to where I stand:
On this mountain with the trees
Who beckon with their open branches:

Do not fight against nature’s rhythm
That springs the flowers from the ground
As it wills the sun to set upon us
And gives us the food to carry on.

I see myself as this reality
As feet take care to tread on soil
To avoid crushing the delicate petals
That smile upward towards the sun.

Time provides the future harvest,
But of its success, time will tell.
So I stand here with my garden ***
In loving silence, tilling the land.

To breath the air the sky provides
Takes me from my restlessness:
Watching the ground provide the future,
Submitting myself to nature’s pulse.

But the scenery of planned geometry
Which covers soil with concrete slabs,
As if embarrassed by earthly origins,
Tries to move to a different rhythm:

The glare of halogen eyes that stare
In unquiet nights in impatient lines
Find their way towards distant houses
That protect their owners from working lives.

This world screams out from its distortion
Of nature’s will that lies ignored:
It lays the path of its own destruction
As it claims its own power to endure.

But nature’s spirit will always triumph,
Whether through man’s self-inflicted end
At the hands of his selfish illusion,
Or through his careful heeding of the truth:

This world that’s lost its quite places  Demands we become its place of quiet;
To silence the thoughts that construct man’s world,
So that we absorb ourselves in nature’s will:

The heart that beats inside you now
Beats not for the one in whom it dwells,
But allows nature a fleeting glimpse
Of itself through conscious human eyes.

This truth whispers even now
From the deafening world of the city streets
That hurries towards its ignorant end
As it attempts to escape its fate.

Do not forsake the earth in waking life,
And wait for death to pull you into the soil
To meld with nature’s majestic cadence
And be one with your reality.

Sometimes,
When the sun goes down,
But does not take with it the weight of daily life,
I find my eyes looking up
To the lights that share their wisdom with my troubled mind.

Most days,
My mind finds times when it acquiesces to the struggle
Of the pressures that the world thrusts upon it,
But still it finds refuge in the stars
That shelter from the ever-shifting flow
Of the illusions that press on me to change.

Every night
When my eyes travel the infinity above my head,
I am freed from careless thoughts that drift aimlessly in my mind:
The openness of space greets me with its silent embrace.

Send me adrift around the stars,
Past the endless nebulas, planets and their suns!
Orbit me around the galaxies that stand indifferent to our human time:
A blink of an eye that's quickly forgotten in the infinite.
Up there I find myself as the calm that permeates the emptiness
As I feel all those careless boundaries peel away...

The cloud,
A formless palace in the sky,
Drifts by in the haze of this fleeting dreamworld:
Out the window that keeps me separate
From the freedom of its emptiness
As if to enter it's glittering void of star and city light
Would immediately dissolve it into its own abyss...

Consecrated by this boundary
This metal bubble drifts through
This most intangible of kingdoms:
Empire for the passing bird
Who never stop here
To make their home
But ride along the fallow winds
That blow in this world of transition.

How I long
To join the darkened skies,
And drift among the passing clouds:
To live forever in the flux and flow
Of the homelessness of empty space.

But I am not asleep tonight
As dreams fly me outside this shell
Made of flight and metal hollow
To the wind's cry in my new domain.

But ground draws me towards its wake
For dreams that flew me from its grasp
As my world falls from me like a stone
And from this,
My kingdom
I stand overthrown.

Piercing the shrouded sky
They fight against surrounding black:
Like flowers breaking through sidewalk cracks,
The light seeps through the darkness.
Between the leaves
The stars reach for the eyes…

But now thought reaches away:
I escape myself through abstraction
As the past violently asserts itself:
Remembrance induced by a careless focus
On a memory flowing from a present vision:
The tree
now
Clothed in leaves
Beckons forth remembrance:

Autumn leaves,
Trundling into legs only to move past
As they ride the restless winds
Whispering their own poems
Of meaning only experience could collect…
They rush
Through fallow ditches
And enclosing brush which
Form a pattern around
The tree that beckons forth
- With disrobed branches glistening
White under stars,
Dampened by the still-settling dew-
A Self-realization that obliterates all boundaries
And encompasses no thoughts,
but the One
which gives them:
The One which gives a breath
Held together by the moments
Which trail the first puff of white
that joins the airs that wrap themselves
around the tree reaching up to the stars
which do not reflect the one who sees them
but give the light
towards which thought now reaches.

All these memories induce
The longing to feel the openness
No words could possibly posses
As slowly the months fade
Into the dissolving moments it takes
For the eyes to reach up to the light.

SSSSHHHHHH!! The essssssenccce

Some say the essence
Is a cloud of luminescent gas
Whose color one cannot pin down

Some say the essence
Is ensconced in music
But only the “civilized” type
(like Mozart or Philip Glass)

Some say the essence
Is surrounded by unicorn ponies
Dancing on clouds
Farting rainbows
With hearts

Some say the essence
Doesn’t drink liquor on Sundays
Or any day for that matter
Because the essence is Mormon

I say the essence
Is none of these things
And that those people are all nuts.

And now a search comes upon the poem,
A search already possessed by what it searches for:
Floundering in the hallucination of its darkness,
Illuminated by the Light it tries to create.

(You are this Light
That illuminates the darkness of the search
For a light that it seeks to make
In place of the One by which it searches.)

It turns to the poem for guidance
Or amusement or distraction,
In its effort to create the light
It assumes itself to be.

(But this end that its ideal proclaims
Lies disobeyed by the means prescribed:
No search could find the light it tries to create
Unless it surrenders itself to the present from which Light shines)

If the search stepped into this Light
And ceased its attempt to replace it,
As if to own or dominate it,
Its light would burn.

(Here the search abolishes itself
As it ends its violent struggle:
As light-in-Light it finds its way to peace
And surrenders its hallucination of control to truth.)

I had to smother this lust and aggression
But I found my enemy was my mode of repression.
Suppressed, depressed I watch them dance around
Regressing, listening to the music’s throbbing sound
I find myself sitting here in a lonely stupor
Disengaged languishing in this torpor
The sound of pouring: a dreadful mass
But I still won’t fail to drain my glass!

Those who think they hold us to heel
When they bask in the light of our hallucination
Think control will keep at bay what’s real
By manipulating parties, media and nation.

But illusion has captured them as well.
Decades passed and truth repressed
Leave them under the deceiving spell
Of fleeting power with no regress

We know that truth has no party here
Where success finds only the greedy few
Perpetuating facades and grinding gears
Which cause such pain and crush the new

But the power lies in the peoples’ hands
Which build the pedestals from which greed falls
And demand control throughout the lands
In hopes their pride will conquer all

In our hopeless desire for personal glory
We ignore the love we owe each other
And leave the selfish to write our story
Forgetting each man is our brother

This freedom that we feel together
Manifests itself between us now
If we heed its virtuous call to weather
The trials our fate can’t disavow:

Cast off illusion from your mind!
Cast off your party: left and right
More powerful than a memory’s bind
Is present freedom’s eternal light

Destiny makes this our cause
Against loves’ division by selfish hate
So we can walk as one: free of laws
And live together without the state

The poem,
In the hands of the reader,
Marks the time with rhythm
Which holds the words
That point beyond the page.

Like the rising sun
Which gives the earth its first light,
You give the poem to the mind
That finds you in the page
When it points to its beyond.

But yesterday still beckons
The mind that contemplates
The poem that gives the invitation
To leave it all behind…

Atomized,
Anti-socialized,
No one to turn to.  
No one to help you.
In a hypocritical world
We look to him for direction.
We find in him a solution:
Where actions become  
The only form of thought,
There lies the virtue of sacrifice.
No one will deny  
The purity of blood
Selflessly shed for this dream:  

“When these centuries of struggle end,
Paradise will be complete.
Everything is possible.
We can change the world.”

Between the words we speak,
The ambiguity asserts itself
In the lack we try to conceal
Through the flow of conversation.

Here truth always lives anew:  
Dancing from one lie to the next
Escaping the stability created
By arguments that struggle to their next conclusion.

Absorbed by these false summits,
Meaning slips away
As we look past its fleeting visage
Towards the endless climb ahead.

But these lies give understanding
About the truth they conceal:
About the falsity of our self-imprisonment
Within the differences we’ve created.

So when I tell you this love is infinite
Do not ponder the meaning of the words
But let them go in silence:
Free yourself and dance with me.

Every second of every day
God speaks life into this world
That greets you in the here and now
If you take the time to listen.

God creates existence from the future
So to give it to your present
But every time you receive it
It has already become the past.

Do not stay with this past
And with its spectral illusion
Try to overtake the future
And be creator of God’s word.

But man cannot countermand
The eternal will of God
As love’s radiant authority
From which all existence flows

Son of man cast off your past!
For your illusion originates there.
The future speaks with resounding truth
That there we must all be born.

Inside the café
I look out on to the small portion of the city grid that unfolds before my eyes:
Beyond the softness of my translucent reflection on the window pane
Towards the sea of black coats, umbrellas and moving shapes that grace the landscape.

Another person,
Another life:
Another unread novel rotting on the shelf
Passed over by all who would read it;
Passed by on the city street.

Can you feel the rain between us
As you move on
Pretending not to see the face that stares past my prints
Shining off the window after these longing fingers pull away?

I have seen it in your face when look down or straight ahead
And pass by the others in your bubble as if living in your own dream:
Merely a distant gaze,
You face the throng,
Face desire
Face the unconscious need that drives the surrounding movement forward
Towards the discovery of its own emptiness that renews its search and its longing.

You do not share this longing:
Dwelling in this space between the others
Content to be carried along by the forces beyond your control

How I wish your calmness would infect the world around you
So as to part this ocean of desirous chaos
That I might walk to you
Look you in the eyes
And smile…

On the path made holy by our steps
No rationality could possess
the openness of those flowing fields
rolling like placid ocean waves.

Those endless rows of corn
Found us in the setting sun
Whose first red reached our eyes
In the rapture of our peaceful walk

I still cannot remember a time
Our steps strode more perfectly side by side
Guided, like the waving corn guides the wind,
By the moment whose unveiling we share

My mind meets you here and now
As the realization sinks in:
You bring me here to witness
The reality that I am not alone

Left
in the lurch

Time
       flies
Bye
Free for
the taking
But
Words fail
of their own account
To redeem
   Themselves
       In the
Wake
Of their
binding reality

Feel the force of the broken ones
Blindly lashing at the branches
Afraid to strike the root and see
The end to their negative solidarity

Streets seethe under daylight’s pressure:
The negative solidarity movement marches forth.
But I remember as I stand here watching on,
That they say the night is always darkest before the dawn.

In fear the masses converge
Under banners devoid of vision,
Understanding,
And love.
No light of freedom glints in eyes
That look for solutions from above:

“The state will cure the sickness
of self-centeredness,
Greed,
And Lust,
It will bring the order to our lives
Our cities,
Our nation,
Our trust.”

But the state can protect us only
From the violence we cause each other
Its touch never brings the love we crave
From every man as our brother.

It cements its rule with force’s power
That in love’s absence, projects a veneer
Of a nation’s people bound together
Though, in fact, they’re bound by fear.

The state’s hand touches where we’ve succumbed
To the blind hatred that keeps us enchained
To our selfishness that preys on others
And acts on lies we’ve entertained.

The state lets us live with the sad folly
Of not looking our fellow man in the eyes
And knowing his pain, troubles and joy
While living with him every day of our lives.

I dream one day we’ll realize the truth
That our nation was not of fiat born
But birthed by freedom’s present light
From which the state has had us torn.

I dream one day we’ll see the truth
That love and freedom must lead the fight
Against state slavery and its chains
But ’till then we march:
Left, right,
Left, right,
Left, right.

Now I will sing you this lullaby
About a man who could not die
All around him the world did pass
Like an endless hourglass:
He roamed the beaches throughout the land
Counting every grain of sand,
While in and out flowed the sea
Like another passing memory
And every night the sky grew dim
The ocean always sang to him
And lulled him to uneasy sleep
Troubled by his lonely keep
But with his final conscious breath
He’d always whisper his wish for death

I can see trees
Unfold with stubborn insistence around the empty field
Where breezes pool in lively airs that dance from sky to ground,
Only to plod into the branches that close them to the stars.  

Lost in the pathways leading nowhere,
The wind forgets from where it came
As branches ****** away its vitality
Dissipated into the quiet weeping of the leaves.

But skimming along the canopy ceiling
Above my head: winds rustle trees,
Enveloping me in the mocking absence
Of the quiet freedom of the open air.

Now wind gently greets me at the edge
Where trees sculpt the field’s subtle form
Which gives the openness its place
And gives pause to a restless mind.  

And now I realize the forest’s trees
Which unfold in their ordered grace,
Allow the freedom of the open to possess
The meaning that I longed to seek.

A dark ocean carried by the wind obscures my travel.
As the last sliver of light disappears behind the ghostly sea of clouds, I dream of you.
Memories worm their way into my conscience.  
Like your fingers gently weaving through my hair,
Though I have not even reached my destination, I can only think of returning.
I must repress what passions remain or this week will tear me apart.
Away from you I am away from life.
These thoughts rush by along with the clouds: transient in their form, continuous in their substance.
A voice pulls me away.
Her face, barely visible in the dark of the cabin, once beautiful now wrinkled with time stares at me with a formality: a smile.
The cold cup passes from her hand to mine, and I am out the window again.
The clouds are gone, replaced by the spreading tendrils of light that characterize the spontaneity of urban invasiveness.
Looking down I see cars, buildings, people, and in this transient state between destinations, between sleep and wakefulness, between happiness and sorrow, I dream that each one has a face like yours.

I dream of a world filled with you.

Suddenly,
A loving smile radiated from his lips
Whose truth they understood more than his words:

“take,
eat;
this is my body”

Peter took the bread.
Peter put it to his lips.
Peter did not understand.

Puzzled stares
Dart towards each other
Finding no answers in their search.

The moment’s silence
Draws
Out.

(Though they felt his light,
they understood not his words.

But he could feel it in their eyes…)
His hands lifted the clay cup from the wood table.

“drink from it,
all of you”

Peter stepped forward.
Peter drank from the cup,
Peter felt the warmth radiate from his center,
And yet he did not understand

Still fettered in the shackles of his worldly birth
He watched
Puzzled
As the others put it to their lips.

The wine
Presented no sign to those expecting:
The simple drink from the rough cup
Sat humbly in the shepherd’s hand;
Worldly to those who did not yet know Him.

“This is my blood”
But no blood flowed from his veins.
No cut violated his body
And no bitter taste of salt and iron lingered in their mouths.

But suddenly Peter understood
As his thoughts brushed against God’s perfection.
Breaking free from the world’s tethers,
To accept his present, divine birth:

Given by Himself.
Given by Christ’s revelation:

He revealed himself in the cup,
In the wine,
In the faces of his followers,
In the dirt floor and thatched ceiling,

In the eyes:

For the first time
He shared the eyes of his beloved teacher
Who cast his gaze into the depths of his own.

Behind the eyes of the son of man
He saw the infinite identity of his father’s smile
That bore itself on the son’s complexion
Who lived there in his father’s words
As they were given to him by his faith
That kept him in the moment of his father’s unfolding creation.

He did not know what it was to be lost
Until God found him in his blind questioning
And struck all ego from his mind
And blessed his tongue with these words:
“This is Truth
This is God
This is Christ”

Lost in the somnolence of his solitude
The poet’s hell
Lies in the heaven of his existence
That he cannot see
With eyes closed
And back turned towards the future:
His game composed through endless hindsight,
But no sight for what is here…

But I am here…
And I looked into his eyes…

Lost
In his dualities and questions,
Frustrated with only heaven’s silence for an answer,
He vowed to fill the world with words,
But still he stopped to listen to mine:

“Do not feel the guilt of change
As words seem to lose their meaning
As they fly away from your tongue
And drift into the sky.

In this moment together
Do not fight time as it moves forward
And wait forever for abstract completion,
That escapes us even now
As we dance
Into the present’s dawn.”

My friend,
When you were born,
Life cast you into this dream
While giving to you love
To remind you of waking Reality.

As surely as I love you now
And sit beside your final bed,
Not soon to sleep, but soon you´ll awaken
From the dream from which Destiny calls.

Ahead of you Death has always walked
Showing you your fated path
And giving love in those precious moments
When the dreamer dared to lift his eyes.

In death your truth foreve finds you
When love reaches its Eternal Source
As the Reality with which it soon will meld
In the harmony of one´s mortal end.

The love we felt for you in life
Has touched us all beyond its close
Leaving memories in the livings' minds
And something deeper that we sometimes find:

In future moments of conscious grace
When Present's joy meets open hearts
We will be following You through love
More strongly than any memory.

If our recollections of you fade
-Though for me they never will-
Take comfort in your destination
That calls you clearly even now.

This solace I now try to hold:
Trapped in memories of your love
Which soon will leave this mortal plane
And leave me sitting here without you.

Your impending absence brings a rift
That keeps me from the words I preach
And casts me from God's loving arms
Into the abyss of this black dream.

These tears that I shed for you now
Fall on unforgiving floors
And force me to the recognition
That more than ever I feel alone.

Eyes downcast
I wander from the fields.
Grass and earth
–Still damp from the morning’s quenching-
Ooze between bare feet and penetrate every crevice between the toes,

But I do not notice as my mind wanders farther still:
Over the flat fields of waving corn, tiny towns and shapeless forests.
Finding only broken limits and infinite flight:
Past the open path through which I trod
Past the present to where shadows still play:
The ruse of memories guiding me away…

But at that moment all thoughts align:
The light that bubbles up from green blades
Awakens me from the ground.

I step into this new world
Leaving all those careless thoughts behind
As the tiny twinkling lights illuminate the grass
Soft between my feet as I catch sight of you now.

I’ve opened my eyes today:
Falling into the sea of luminescent orbs
Crawling up the trees and vines
Showing me the soft angles of your face
As you step gingerly down the path
Smiling.

Though these perfect moments seem fleeting,
I know that only now we glimpse eternity.
So come live with me in this reality.
Come join me in this dream.
To live forever in your presence
Transmutes existence like the fireflies’ dance.

Sometimes,
When the world’s motion takes hold,
I find myself staring at your image.
Bending the distance between us,
Into the gap between myself and reality.  

Where once in front of me stillness flowed,
Chaos screams against your lifeless image.
And now I find myself straying once again:
Fearing you will forget  
what between us that can only go unsaid.  

I am remembering those times when
Words encumbered the expression
Of a love felt without reflection:
The complications of my thoughts  
Simplified
Into that warm embrace.

Now illusions of my longing efface
That sublime meaning existence once held.
Life shifts from an endless symphony
To the world screaming:  
“there is no poetry here”

Endless glaring halogen eyes
Stream past the indifferent crowds.
Thinking they’re on the pulse.
Thinking they’re something new.  

Their faces change,
Their purposes do not.
Each one as irrelevant as the last:
Single minded parts
Of the meaningless pattern  
that is the city.  

Living here all my life,
I am lost among them.
I’ve seen it all before;
Watched them all pass by.  

My noise?
Passing conversations.
As I sit alone with everyone.
I could talk to each of them
But have no one to talk to...

Life,  
Through the differentiation
Of its own self-engendering movement,
Veils its own eyes  
to the privilege of its self-experience.
What a joke when
a life full of contemplation
has only to show for its efforts
the understanding that occurs
when the mind is silenced by its own contradictions.
Understanding that
When I see you,
I see me.

I wanted to cease to think myself a mirror.
A mirror imagines it is separate the world around it:
Tries to take the place of the world it reflects.

This illusion brings a tension to ones thought
That attempts to encase ones mind in a shroud
but reality always seeps through the cracks
Threatening to break away the shell.

This is what happens, as the tension increases
Until you let it all go…

Slowly.
Fractalizing.
World fractalizes
As the tension slips away
Until consciousness no longer provides identity
-built on memories and the illusion of its future-
But finds itself as what the world imparts
-the pattern which consciousness now finds:

The atom repeats the pattern of the molecule,
Repeats the pattern of the cells,
Repeats the pattern of the leaf,
Repeats the pattern of the branch,
Repeats the pattern of the tree,
Repeats the pattern of the Earth,
Repeats the pattern of the mind.

Letting the moment design mind’s silence,
Sending its attention towards the ordered world:
Destined now to assume its rightful place.

Some days poetry flows from the tounge:
A feeling that rushes over me.
Lips appointed to speak the sentiment
Of thoughts that touch their every second.

Some days my words dissolve into the voices of the crowd:
Superfluous thoughts
That drift towards their disappearance
Like tears that meld with the rain.

Some days I fight for words I cannot say.
Like a wintered city wrapped in silence,
Yearning for its morning life,
Stands empty in our sleep.

Some days I translate the silent langugage
Given by the future as it slips into the past
And leaves a trace in the words I speak
That barely point at what I feel.

The wake my mind endured before you came
Prepared me for a cheerless death alone.
The corpse of rotting love once wild then tame,
Resigned to the earth all flesh save the bone.
Deaf to the sound of lust my world pervades,
I wrote poems of loyalty and love.
Without a muse, my words languished mislaid
On paper and lines scratched helplessly thereof.
Then I to your bed climbed with you to sleep,
And all my poppies transformed to roses
Red for the blood in veins now flowing deep
To a heart that now around you closes.
I’ll never give up what I’ve found in you
Aleks, may our love remain forever new!

I give this poem to you.

I wanted to tell you what I am, what you are.

Though time and space seem to separate us,
I tell you:
We are together now.

It is Ourself that I’m trying to impress on you:
The now in which the words pass by
Contains our voice speaking these thoughts;
The future as it becomes the past.

We are this future,
Which consciousness faithfully reflects
As it leaves our unthought Self
To dance in the firmament of the mind.

This future is the One
That holds the present and the past
As it reveals itself as everything
When we glimpse its shadow.

So drop this poem from your hands
And drop these thoughts from your mind
So that the reader might take the time
To free itself of words and listen…

In a distant universe
In a distant galaxy
Around a distant star
On a distant planet
In a distant house
With a distant mind

Someone feels the same as me.

The stranger walked
As the Moment shone from eyes
Betraying the soul
That shadowed the glory of its Revelation.

Fate locked two gazes
That knew of the other’s inner flame
A knowledge no words could hope to capture
Though both pass in opposite directions

Do we know each other
As we walk these city streets
Whose blindness we find so lacking
In the fleeting glance
that passed us by?

Today
a flower was picked
a shade of royal elegance
purple in it's many petaled spiral.
Its precious enchantment
had to be held
had to be hid to preserve and protect.  

But every time it  
came out of the pocket
to radiate its beauty,
the petrels frayed
the colors fade
until it fell apart
when hardly anyone had seen it.
Hardly anyone had felt its radiant love.  

And one wonders if  
it would have been better  
to leave it growing in the ground...

The blank page
is all the rage
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Heaven lies in the
Genesis of becoming
The divine present