Desirous, since Eden,
are we of knowledge.
We search the stars
and the holy books,
Desperately seeking
in the seen and written.

But its a strange tongue written familiarly,
In symbols of nature and human words,
Of beauty that stirs, reveals and conceals,
Escapes all, but the angelic-tongued gifted.

The spirit of man is not to be denied,
No price is too great for access to magic,
Crafting words and tales in the symbols,
Soothing and tickling, feeding ready ears.

From daily horoscopes
to spellbinding bible-based
eschatological narratives,
Into which sin whispered,
its lies subtly woven:
Lies subverting lies,
Serving the ends of God.

The waters rose, and the flood pours
The Spirit stirs, the Soul cannot but sing
The psalmist’s song, for both souls are one
Moved by the same Spirit.

A Liar says this and does that.
Cries, "Insult!" at any hint of Truth.
Uses Violence as proof, for surely
only Truth is worthier than Death.

If what you hear
and what you see
are not the same,
what do you believe?

Your Eyes or your Fears?

Weirdly wonderful caterpillars,
liquefy, transform, and reborn;
Wonderfully beautiful butterflies,
Who taught you how to do that?

Mother Nature, the mother of gaps;
Magical hand hides ignorance,
Misdirects from real question:
Why do we even ask at all?

Curiosity satiated we move on,
Forgetting blindness unremoved.
For if sighted, a new tongue to learn,
Mother Nature, the new alphabet.

Robed in angelic white, she rose.
Silent and serene, strange to sight;
Unknown, yet familiar; for my heart burned.
We have loved deeply, we knew each other.
Spirit affirmed; deep called unto deep: Peace.

Up above, into the light, she rose.
Light, a most brilliant white,
Sum of light from every heaven's stars;
Each a soul, at rest, awaiting the rest.
Into the light she rose, white diffusing into light.

Today, I learned, the light is Paradise.

The Jews searched long and hard
for signs of their Messiah's coming
but when he arrived as prophesied
they traded their King for a thief.

The Evangelicals love their bibles
Proud they see, for the Light has come
And not as Jews for they're true Israel,
Desirous as Eve, they hasten the Apocalypse.

The Evangelicals searched long and hard
for signs of their Messiah's return,
the lawless one arrived as prophesied
and they made him King.

If the Chosen suffered the Holocaust,
how can anyone escape chastisement too?

My mother, died.
She waited, hanging on.
No longer conscious.
But for one last touch.

I knew she was alive,
when I arrived at the hospice.
She left the precise moment,
I opened the door to her room.

We touched, in spirit.
She left, in peace.

We met again, in my dreams,
that very night, and a few other nights too.

Our souls spoke, not in words,
but in emotions deeply aroused,
in the dream language of
fragmentary fleeting sights,
disjointed leaps, even bizarre things.

But of things only between us,
never spoken of, at all, in all of life,
neither known to anyone else,
mutually shared, unacknowledged,
in our deepest and most intimate selves.

There were shortcomings.
Things could be better, in hindsight.
But I had no guilt, just regrets.
For the little things,
that would have meant a lot, then.

Then I had a heart attack.
A&E, cardiograms, sonograms, angiograms, etc
Heart declared perfectly healthy;
No heart attacks likely in the next 5 years.

I knew then emotions are real: as real as sight and touch;
As material as the physical: Grief can ****.

And I learned to think
not just with reason but with emotions too.