The man .. or woman .. who either disdains or fears to walk up
The darkest of entries may be an excellent being –
Fit for a thousand good things – but he or she may not
Make a good person to sit with their own spirit.
I count so little of the things that I see pass
By me at broad noon in the open street.
My nature is shy and I hate spectators yet in
Such unobserved corners I sometimes see the
Fault in my nature –
But is not nature simply nature after all?

Through a long lit wide passage the air opens
Into the narrowest of streets trodden upon by
The many who humbly await their turn to speak.
They get oft in my head until they at last
Are given their silent turn to audition for my inner word play -
The one that I know I will reproduce later –
Oh they all read their own lines one after
The other as I secretly score their performance.
I can tell always when they have struck a chord in me
Because their score is measured within my laughter - or my tears.

I pretend to call out next - and the next one begins their reading ...
And thus here it goes….

Two ladies were standing arm in arm 5 paces from me
With their backs against the wall – I edged up
Within a yard or so of them and quietly took my stand.
I was all dressed in black and scarcely seen – as were they –
The lady to my left was a tall lean figure of a woman
Of about forty: the other woman the same size and make
At about age forty six.
There was no look of wife or widow in either of them –
They seemed to be two upright vestal sisters –
Unblemished by caresses – unbroken by tender salutations.

I wished to my soul that I could somehow make them happy
But I knew that this night their happiness was to come from
Some other quarter, a place not far away from my heart.
Behind me I heard voice, a shrill voice which had within
It the sweetest of cadence about it, it was asking for two and twenty dollars.
Having had my thoughts so impetuously shattered I turned to
See the owner of the voice - thinking “For the love of Heaven,
Has begging gotten onto to such a science that now the beggar is allowed
To ask for the exact amount of charity that his need requires? ”

As for the two women,
They seemed as astonished by the request as I for
The request was about an outlandish thing – near
Twenty two times more than what one would normally
Give in the daytime – let alone in the dark.
“Twenty two dollars!” one of the ladies exclaimed
Laughing while the other lady shook her head in disbelief.
The poor man then said, “I know not how to ask for less
Of ladies of your rank and beauty,” and then he took off
His tumbleweed hat and bowed down his head
As if he were in the presence of royalty.

The beggar remained silent in his bow and after a
Minute or two he renewed his supplication with,
“Do not my fair ladies, please do not stop your one good ear
Against me – for I have a need of the amount and I’m
Not used to begging so forgive me if my asking is out of rule.”
The older of the two replied, “My good man, between the two
Of us we do not have the money that you require for we carry
No cash.”
“Then God bless you”, the man cried “And may God multiply
Your joys by which you so graciously give to others while without any cash.”

I then observed the younger woman reaching into her purse.
“I have a twenty she said,” as she pulled the bill free of her clutch
Handing it straightaway to the man but he shook his head no.
“I must have twenty two”, he replied, “Surely you must have two more,
Has not nature been good to you?” he asked “I see she has been
Bountiful to you – please be bountiful to a poor man in need.”
Still holding out the twenty she answered, “If I had it I would.”
He turned back to the older one and said, “My fair charitable woman,
What is it but your goodness and humanity which makes your eyes
So sweet – they outshine the morning even in this dark passage.
I only just heard the lawyer and the doctor over there talking
About how beautiful the two of you are as I passed by them.”

I watched as the two ladies seemed to be much affected and to my
Amazement the older one of them reached into her purse and pulled
Out another twenty and both of them handed them to the man.
The context between them and the beggar was no more but it continued
On between the two of them even after the man had walked away.
I stepped on hastily after him touching him on the shoulder
To get his attention and as he turned he shoved the forty dollars in his pocket,
“I could have you arrested for panhandling,” I said as he turned around.
“Panhandling?” he asked, “I was not panhandling,” he responded.

“When was the last time that you heard of a panhandler getting an eighteen dollar tip?”

A major storm was brewing as I
Alighted back to the hotel when the porter
Told me that a young woman in a yellow hat had
Just moments before inquired about me.
I thought nothing much of it other than of its odd nature
Taking my leave from the porter with a thankful nod.
Entering the towers making my way – not to the elevator-
But to the stairs – for I often opt for the more difficult path.
As I went up the stairs coming to a landing 5 floors below
My own, I met a young woman in a yellow hat coming down.

I stopped to nod and give her free passage down the staircase –
Making sure not to fail in waiting upon her to pass - she stood
Staunch still in front of me saying, “I was afraid you had left town.”
Then she asked, “Do you have a letter for me?”
Somewhat bewitched I tried to think of what she was referring to
But my mind was so full of the yellow hat and those inquisitive eyes
I had not the presence of mind to understand her question, let alone
The ability to search for any logical conclusion.
“A letter?” I asked thinking only of the scarlet letter.

It was the darkest, stormiest of evenings in the latter part of May and
Even here in the stairwell the ozone smell of lightning was present.
When she spoke again I noticed the smell of the ozone was
Not of the typical “storm” type but rather that pleasant firmament
Was radiating from this yellow bridled – creature in front of me.
I knew I had to beat down my temptations, so again I asked, “What letter?”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a torturous half grin on her ruby lips, opening
The palm of her right hand revealing a small golden box – she continued - and as she
Continued I became aware of her accent – “My father, he past last week” –

“I’m so sorry,” I said interrupting her – “Please tell me – who was your father?”
She looked down at the box with a tear in her eye, “He is – was the count De Conti.”
Immediately I knew of who she spoke because I had had dealings with him before.
“I’m so sorry,” again I repeated purely out of stupidity not knowing what else to say.
“He said I was to find you and give this to you in exchange for your letter.”
With that said I thought I knew of what letter she meant – or did I?
“It’s in my room,” I said with no more attention to detail.
I led her back up the doubled five flights of stairs holding her by the one hand
While in the other she held the golden box.

At the door I fumbled with the card key until the little light on the door
Turned green – I opened the door to my room and she entered.
The crimson curtains – the same pattern and colors of the bed –
Were drawn closed, the lightning reflecting a more reddish hue
Than I remembered the curtains having – so warm a tint it affected the
Mademoiselle’s face – Somehow I took it as a blush so I blushed myself.
We were quite undeniably alone which induced a second blush before
The first one could get itself fully free.
It was a pleasing half-guilty blush where the blood is more at fault than the man.

My virtue flew impetuously after it – not to call it back mind you but
To make the sensations of it more delicious to the nerves.
Knowing these feelings are not sent by the righteousness of virtue,
I searched for the letter for five minutes, opening drawer after drawer then
Luggage piece after piece unable to think clearly – the devil was in me.
He I knew well as a capable adversary, whom if we resist will surely fly away
But I am not usually one to combat this formidable foe, fearing that I myself
Will be harmed in the combat – generally I don’t do anything and by my
Abstinence the devil must get bored of me and leave me alone.

The fair mademoiselle came close up behind me as if to help me search.
“Do you know what was in the letter” she asked?
I nodded yes and then she opened her handbag taking out a tissue and
Handed it to me along with a pen – “Then write it down,” she pleaded.
I wanted to yell, “Then I shall write it upon your fair lips,” but I knew
If I did I would surely perish, burned at the stake of honor – Instead I
Took her by the hand and led her to the door.
Then she did the unthinkable – she turned and placed both of her hands in mine
As if to say that all was alright with her.

It was impossible for me not to caress them in this situation.
I wished so hard to let them go but I held onto them all the while.
Her eyes looking into me with that yin and yang quest where
Her stare made me focus on her perception of myself.
No sooner did the inner struggle begin to fade than I found
Myself having to fight the battle all over again with my limbs
Trembling at every idea that filled my head.
Letting go of her hands, I took the pen and put it to paper not knowing
What to write -I scribbled something and started to speak when…

When last I noticed the bed should have been several feet from the door.
I still had the pen and paper in my hands when it happened – and I
Can give no logical account of how it happened – or why – I never asked her
Nor did I pull her – neither did I think of the bed – but so it did happen.
We both sat down.
Beside me she opened her hand again showing the golden box.
She reached first to her left pocket, then to her right pulling out a tiny key.
She put the key into my hand holding the box up toward me.
Seeing the key hole I inserted the key and turned it to the right.

As the box opened I felt her other hand on the nap of my neck.
I heard the box begin to play – “Somewhere in Time” as she crossed
Her legs beside me – I noticed that one strap of one of her shoes was loose.
Listening to the chiming melody I reached for the strap to buckle her shoe.
As I did so my guilt ridden feelings got the better of me and I said,
“I’m so sorry, I have something to confess, your father never gave me a letter
To give to you.”
After putting the strap into the buckle I lifted her foot and in doing so
I must of unknowingly threw her off center – and then
As she laid back on the bed pulling me with her -
She said, “I know, I have something to confess to you as well.
I wasn’t ever really looking for one.”

What is truth?

Unfortunately –

No one can be told what the effect is.
You have to know for yourself.
What if this was your last chance?
After, maybe there is no turning back.
You can take the red pill and the story ends.
You wake up in your bed and believe
Whatever you want to believe.
Or you can take the blue pill
And stay in wonderland as I show you
How deep the rabbit hole really goes.

Science says that we are made of detritus
Stuff exploded from distant stars.
Get over it, I say, celebrate it.
After all, what nobler a thought
Could one ever cherish
Than the knowledge that the
Universe lives within us all.
So look up into the stars and with each
Twinkle, wink back to the ancestors they truly are.

There is nothing for which I have
Painted out for myself so joyously
A riot of my affections as in this journey
Through the inner part of my dreams.
Sometimes my thoughts are gated away from the
Dreams which suffers me to be somehow unfit.
But as I gain an awareness of each and every
Mindset, a festivity arises in me with a knowledge
That the father is in the background
Of my every foregrounded piece.

But sometimes those gates are not so easily opened.
Somehow, with each line the locks open and I vibrate differently -
A feeling so deep inside that the effects render me entwined.

That's when I sit up and shout,

“Oh, eternal fountain of feelings,”

I place my hand over my heart and repeat:

“Tis here I trace thee,
Tis here that thy divinity stirs within me.”

I move my hand to my forehead and continue

“Dear God, is love just some pomp of a word?
You, are you not the great sensorium of the world?
You know my languish and you also know of my symptoms.”

Taking my hand from my forehead sitting now Indian style
With my hands on my knees facing upwards.

“I come oh Lord just as I am, without a plea
But that thy blood was shed for me, so I come.”

Closing my eyes looking down in reverence
While thinking the thoughts of the master.

“Would God place a boulder in front of the blind?”

“No my Lord.”

"Would God speak out loud to the deaf?”

“No my Lord.”

“Would God put Love out of reach?”

“No my Lord.”

And then in this concurrent dream state
One sage after another appears to me.

“You will ***** around in broad daylight, just like a blind person groping in the darkness and you will not succeed at anything you do. You will be oppressed and robbed continually and no one will come to save you.” Deut.28:29

“My heart beats wildly, my strength fails and I am going blind.” Psalm 38:10

“Let their eyes go blind so they cannot see and let their bodies grow weaker and weaker.” Psalm 69:23

“So I let them follow their blind and stubborn way living according to their own desires.” Psalm 81:12

“Is there one who made your ears deaf?
Is there one who formed your eyes blind?” Psalm 94:9

“For the wise person sees while the fool is blind. Yet I saw that wise and foolish people share the same fate.” Eccles. 2:14

Looking up from my inner self,
I see the darkness gaining its entry in.
The battle that is without is also within.

“I sleep but my heart waketh : it is the voice of my beloved
that knocketh saying, open to me my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled:
for my head is filled with dew and my locks with the drops of the night.” Song of Solomon 5:2

“And it shall come to pass that in the last days, saith God; I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh and
Your sons and daughters will prophesy and your young men shall see visions. And your old men shall dream concurrent dreams.” Acts 2:17

Rising to my feet I know now that it is
In my blindness that now I see.
It is in my deafness
That now I hear.
And in the darkness
Like the stars at night,
That is how I see the light.
In these many, many concurrent dreams.

Silent Circles
Suspended in light
Spiraling eloquence
Reflecting the night

In a dance
One shadows
Then becomes shadowed
Circling each other
Within passions sight

Ruling sun rays
Lines them up
To each an audience
Rounding each other
As One

With haloed shoulders
We mask the solitude
‘Neath the starry valence
Of night
Oceans waving
Conjoined in balance
Of our ever enlightened might

Life is
As a grand eclipse
Fleeting moments
Waltzing
Around the sun

Once shadowed
We forever shadow
Dancing
Till morning’s dawn

To and fro we sway
Dancing with words
We say
Living eclipsed
As one

Heart raising a hollow mist to the heavens
In the cove this sultry spring’s morning.
Thoughts quicken to brightly colored sail boats
Sitting quietly in their moorings.
Bobbing about to and fro
With masts reaching tall into the fog.
Tethered to land and to each other –
They dance effortlessly in the waves.

Farther out into deeper waters larger vessels
Move slowly about the harbor.
Some anchored awaiting to unburden their bloated bellies
While others sit high in the water to take on new cargo.
Each with a scurry of movement about their decks
In preparation for the chores of today’s tasks.
The pier becoming the object of their labors.

My mind dissected by the peacefulness of the sailboats
And transgressed by the labors of the larger vessels.
A frightfully busy place is the harbor.
A tranquil loving place is the cove.
A visual blend of both seemingly distant worlds
Lie before me indulging my mind into each.

And I wonder…

Am I as this sailboat tethered safely to the shore
Or am I in the harbor scurrying about
To take on the next heavy load?
The mystery hidden somewhere in the blanketing fog.
Walking across the small dock
Feet capture the movement of my sailboat.

I release the chains that tether her to mother earth
And she, I in her belly, move away from her bindings.
No longer restrained sails slip us from the cove
And into the harbor as the sun rises a new day.
The veiling fog lifting to reveal the answered
Question of this mornings predawn endeavor.

The difference between the cove and the harbor
Lies not in the depth of the water.
That depth need not be frightening.
Looking back into the cove from the harbor
I find that it is what I have brought with me –

That is what makes all the difference…..

The mistress of my hereafter stole me away,
As she so oft does,
To a few minutes of quiet conversation.
In her silenced voice I could read my own
Long since Christianed anguish,
So near it is - but so ****** far away.
If only in Faraway we had us a private cottage,
Maybe then we could retire to our dreams.

The dressing room there
Would always be yours.
For I make everything yours
And call it so beforehand.
Thus making you the mistress
Of my entire hereafter.
My alpha - my omega.

This “Hereafter” is but a melancholy term ‘lest
We find ourselves stole away whilst
Communicating through our spirits.
For in spirit we have already met and
Shall surely meet again.
Let the certainty of it
Brighten us with its forth coming.

Thou surely must be the author
Of the utmost of our faith.
Faith in that day of heaven’s thought where
In Faraway the cottage nestles between
Twin peaks in the sweetest valley
Ever laid at your feet while eyes
See every days' blue azure sky.

There we dine together by candlelight
In the middle of the day while we
Cater the meal toward happiness.
In Faraway, all around us lives
In a rapturous praise along with all that ever was.
And if you should ever find my wit oppressing to
Your kindness, then show your disdain and
I will surely take my leave.

As we look together through the candlelight
Let us see only the highest values in each other.
Let my eyes put your name on notice
That if I were so employed as to be a slave
In this land called Faraway, then my heart
Would be no less than the prophet accommodated
Somewhere within your walls.

There with a stool and a candlestick
I would sit patiently waiting for your unmaking.
There my soul could be at peace from this world.
I’d lean against your wall with the candle in my hand,
I’d look into your eyes as I blew out the light.
The cottage would then come to life
As would the hearth within us.

We’d breathe in each other fueling the fire.
For love is the fuel that burns here in Faraway,
Our sweet vapors rising high into the sky.
They are bless'ed fires that never end.
Come - blow out the candle once more and
Let's lose our disguises–
Later I'll relight the candle so we can
Blow it out and do it all over again.

Where am I?

Where do you think you are?

I don’t know, that is why I am asking you.

You are where you wanted to be.

But what does that mean?

Oh I think you understand.

Is this an NDE – a Near Death experience?

There is no such thing, you are either here or you are alive.
There is no in between. There is no such thing as - Near Death.

OK, is this an after life experience?

What would you have it to be?

Am I dead?

Do you feel dead?

No, I feel very much alive.
Again I ask you, where am I?

You are where you wanted to be.
You are in the now, the one you created.

What does that mean?

You are here in the everything.
You have become the everything.
There is no longer anything that you are not
And in this new experience, this ALE – as you choose to call it –
You are experiencing the grandeur of yourself.

But I am not anything grand.

Oh yes you are for the almighty has been and is now experiencing
Himself/Herself – through you.
In my purest form – I am the absolute.
And in that, you too are a part of that absolution.
I am absolutely everything.

Are you God?

From this absolute purest form, I am whatever you make of me.

What do you want?

I don’t want anything of you.
I simply want what you want.

I want peace.

To find peace you have to also be everything.

I can’t be everything.

But you already are.
If you are not everything, then there is something to need,
Something to want, something to demand.
And from there – you cannot have peace.
For without everything one can only create chaos.
And I am everything that I am and that includes you for
To be every thing one must also be any thing.

If I am this every thing – am I not as you made me?

What do you make of yourself?

Somehow I remember you made of me.
I see myself now in purest form – the one I cannot forget.
The one I am now returned to.
Anything else of me must be fiction.
Something I made up.

Is the one you made up a jealous person?

Sometimes.

Are you jealous now?

Who could be jealous when one has and is everything?

Is the one you made up in life an angry – wrathful person?

Sometimes.

Are you angry now?

What would cause me to be angry when I no longer can be hurt
Or damaged in any way?

Is the one you made up in life a vengeful person?

Sometimes, I guess.

Are you vengeful now?

Who would I take out my vengeance on?
Am I not a part of the everything?
Do we wish to punish me for what I was?

Why would I want punish you – a part of me
That I have created?
And even if you considered yourself apart from me,
Why would I create you and then give you the freedom
Of choice to create whatever you wish to experience,
Then punish you forever for making the wrong choice?

That’s what I’ve been taught.

I tell you this, I would not do such a thing.
And in that truth let it free your heart from
The fear and tyranny of a jealous, vengeful and angry God.
For in your purest form, those are not your attributes either.
So what you’ve been taught is all wrong.

Then why am I here?

You can come here anytime that you wish.

That’s right, I did choose to be here didn’t I?

Yes, you did.
We can be together whenever you want.
The ecstasy of your union with me is yours anytime you want me.
Not just here but at the drop of a hat or the feel of the wind
On your face, or the sound of a cricket under a silvery moon.
And especially in a new born babies breath.

I felt you in my last breath.

Yes, I am always there.
I’m there in your first living thought as with your last.
I am here with you now, even until the end of time.
Your union with me is always complete.
It simply always was, always is and always will be.
For you and I are one – both now and forever more.

I didn’t do right by the gift of life that you gave me, did I?

But you are here with me now, is that not what you wanted?

But if I hurt myself, I must have hurt you.

You created your own reality, that is the gift that I gave you.

And I abused the gift, did I not?

I will not judge you for what you chose to create.

I’ve never felt so much love.

It’s because you’ve never chosen to know of it.

Is it possible for me to make another choice?

Always and forever – anytime you do not like what you have
Created you can think again and create a different reality.

I think I want to do that.

There you go, just put that word “I” in front of what you
Want to create and know yourself in that reality.
Go now and re-make your life as a statement of our truth.
Cause your days and nights to be filled with your reflections
On the highest ideas within you – the ones you now know.
Do it through the expression of our love,
Eternal and unconditional for all those lives you might touch.
Be a light unto the darkness and curse not the light.
Be a bringer of light.
You are that, my son.
So be it.*

*“We’ve got a pulse.”
“Give him some oxygen.”
I heard those words and shortly thereafter
“Welcome Back” as I opened my eyes.

The voice was a feminine voice and she was holding my hand.
So I’m here again, now.
So when you read what I write,
Read it with this in mind.
I am no longer a jealous, vengeful nor angry being.
It’s still me but I’m not the same.
I was dead before I died.
And now I live life in the hereafter - the one after I arrived.