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It is a night like any other.
The room is semi-crowded,
the lights are cool, ambient and allusive.
The music glides and shimmies,
refraction of electronic symphonies,
with a sinuous pulse to
provoke and tease.
Still, you sense a creeping unease.
You are on your second drink...yet,
somehow, even the 12-year old
Macallan is getting a little too familiar;
its usual savor of spiced plum, dry sherry and
salted caramel dies a slow death
by a cold-water corruption -- its once
robust quaff is reduced to a faint, forgettable flavor.
The dreary day, too, has been flat, predictable,
diffuse in focus and devoid of passion.
Life has been set a drift, on trepid tides.
The dissonance of these thoughts
unsettle your soul and mind.
You feel some kind of reckoning  
and is unavoidable.  
Under your breath,
you ask in fraught confusion,
"What time is it? Why am I still here?"
The Bartender sees the lingering trouble
in your face and he provides
a moment of empathy, of quiet
He reaches for the bottle in response but
suddenly stops and looks past you, over your
A subtle smile forms where
a sober shade once stayed.
He sees something that has changed
the energy in the room,
pivoting as if on a dime,
to a sweeter wave,
a smoother flow.
Someone approaches.
You realize you must turn to look, but
slowly, friend...get your bearings...
Settle your thoughts for a beat or two.
You stand and turn, adjusting focus...there she is.
"....wait. Whoa...
Breathe, brother. Steady, soul!"
Then it hits you...
You realize the sensation you feel,
that unstoppable, sharp, sweet,
seductive suffering,
is the longest and strongest
Of long, lost friends.
You remember
why you are here.
You know this time,
this moment you've waited for
for so long...
Your heart speaks and  
your eyes lock in,
to capture hers:
First, I shall slip into sleep,
dark and deep.
Then, morning will rouse me
to life, with it's breezy,
cool breath,
the gossamer, peaceful sun-light
and your golden, eternal beauty.
The crushing night
draws near
but we huddle closer,
hands and
voices extended in support.
The raging fire shatters the
divide between
safety and chaos,
but we burn hotter
for the peace we know,
the homes we built,
and the bonds that sustain.
The howling riot
tramples our culture as
our society shudders
with hysteria,
but we keep our faith
in humanity high;
we look upon this trust as our
Stella Polaris,
our guiding light!
We will never surrender
to the fear, the dark
or the savage within
or without.
Nothing shall defeat
the beacon of truth
we hold in our hearts.
Nothing will diminish the
dauntless dignity
that arises from our
For there is a redeemed
future yet to be realized.
There are ingenious flights of creativity
yet to be discovered
and there are heroic stories yet
to be written...
In the end,
right now,
there are humble hearts
-- our hearts --
yet to create beauty in the world.
How is it that we become great?
By never letting go of hope!
Great, by always reaching for our better tomorrow,
no matter what!
My heart tells me
to always look to that side of
the coin,
as it rises and descends...
the coin of fate twirling air-borne,
glittering high,
pinging out
that true harmonic ring
in a moment of outrageous possibility!
that the world is old
and you are new.
But your soul is older still,
and the mysteries
you will fathom are, finally, few.
But, be present and listen...
for the air around you
carries a sacred truth,
and you will see the clues.
Go forth with eyes alert
and become one with
the wild blue.
As you wander,
as you courageously
you will discover
what is true.
On a morning
misty and silent
I lift my gaze.
I float in the air with my friend
-- in a Balloon of many hues! --
above a land of
unbridled diversity,
a land imbued of an
ancient haze.
Ages of untold
days blur in
literal abstraction, in this
enchanted place.  
Alas, I struggle, bruised by all that
my mind cannot capture.
Rationality wants its place
at the table of experience
and reason seeks to define this rapture.
But I have to leave the doors
open to something else...
something wider, some
new synthesis.
I reach for a new level of existence.
In time, I will
learn to dance
to this dislocation;
I will
learn to let go and
accept what I
cannot fathom.
A heady view from our craft
of levity and lightness
supplies a calming reprieve
from my apprehension.
We drift high through hot
atmospheres and above
pungent savannahs,
seeking to release tension.
We let ourselves drift in
the limitless space of God's
breath, bringing our
breathing into the pattern of
The hush takes hold...
Suddenly, we are over come
with spontaneous celebration!
We exalt in the
wisdom of the Sage sublime!
We embrace it all, in thrall
to visions divine!
We pray to the ineffable
with our laughter and
make love in the moment
with our tears.
All our fears are cast away
and we accept a gift offered
by the mystic pulse
of Mother earth.
A view from our balloon
is the prism which
opened our eyes
to the everlasting
This lofty vantage from a
buoyant craft birthed
the soul's
transcendent flight!
The picture that inspired me to write this is at this address:
I AM...

I am not weak
but without your strength, I can falter.

I am not ignorant
but without your light, I can lose
my way in the darkness.

I am not compromised or diminished
but without you in my life, I am not all
I could be.

I am not dead
but without the summoning
of your love,
my soul lies in cold shade, entombed,
desperately reaching out for

I am not mute.
I still have my voice -- reflected with
emotions of sadness and joy, sacred longing
and sultry desire, laughing levity and
bitter indignation, sparkling song and
studied erudition -- and this voice calls to you.

Just call out to me and I will answer!

I am here,
waiting for your presence.
I am waiting for your solace.
I am waiting for your spirit.
I am waiting for your passion.

Come to me, for
I am yours!
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