Falling Apart

Businesses
Cars
Relationships
Dreams
Expectations
Like ice floes melting in dirty grey water
With tired tracks embedded in the ice
I grab at big chunks of ice
Trying to hold together
Melting illusions.
But they elude my grasp
My hand emerges
Freezing and empty
Why? has been silenced
In me a long time ago.
The question I constantly ask
Is What? What next?
What should I do next?
How should I be next?
I can handle the next small correction.
I cannot handle the tidal wave
Of false projection
Which the world is swept up by.
Ten years of shocks have
Made me tranquil
In the midst of danger
But too much tranquility
Is numbing
Is unreal.
The Chalice that I hold
Steady through
These shocks
Is One that cuts Illusion
To the Core.
Course Correction.
Steady hand
Steady heart
I play my part
The aim and the Object
Of my life
Is X-Pan-sion

Hallelujah!

It is a lot of
power I carry
inside me, the power
of undivided love.

At the core of every
human being
sits Cora: the silent
feminine force
that fuels all words.

MAKE no mistake:
The fuel is LOVE.

Elementary

I don't like to lunge at solutions when a problem arises.
I tease and chase the solution
I feel that if I just leave it unformed
or forming and just be watchful
then there is space
for the right solution to emerge

Sometimes the right solution is dissolution
Disillusion. This solution.
This is a good kind of peeling back.
Seeing with the eyes of truth requires
Courage
And the willingness
To peel back the layers of protective
Mediocre thinking
That has made many generations
Degenerate
Into living sluggish lives.

What poisons of compromise
Did you swallow and stuff in?
How many hungry ghosts
Live in your unfulfilled gut?

Can you trust all your 'gut' feelings?

His Story

Myths are our own pronouncements of destiny
We are the myth-makers and our stories
Are our personal legends of the Fall, the Resurrection, and the Promised Land
These are all contained within a lifetime
Love and fear stand side-by-side
Angels, guarding the doors of Heaven
And Hell.

I live inside my history.
It becomes me as I become it.
But my myth is really my
Opportunity
A port, with an old sailor whistling
a tune on the dock
And he’s whistling an ode to the ferryman.

Because you cannot cross the river without Him.
And the ferryman is Death
Death of a loved one.
Death of a child.
Death of a relationship.
Walking into the valley of the shadow of Death
I descend into wholeness again
and start another cycle, a new age.

Where does my story begin and yours end?
Does it begin and end with
what I am able to know about you?
Sometimes you are completely transparent to me,
At other times dense as a doorknob.

Our stories slide one on top of the other
Creating innumerable opportunities
For the Eternal Truth to dart
Between the letters
Between the keystrokes
Between the lashes
Between the tweens
Between being able to catch yourself
at the moment you begin to imitate yourself
And between being afraid that you won’t.

I’ve tasted death enough times
to know that this body too will die.
Just as the stories of my life have been
willed and impelled and compelled
by the uncertain logic of who Me is,
this body too is a story,
a figment of a beautiful dream
and this body too must die.

But the eternal truth remains that I AM
neither story nor storyteller.

O

Take this dreaming body
Back to the ocean of desire.
Let me stand moon drenched wet feet on sand
Come, take my hand.
Sharp salt spray on my cheeks,
Brisk wind in my chest,
Shakin it up!
Makin' it up
With you.

My head and my heart speak through my words

There is this great love in my heart,
Bursting at the seams!
Looking upon the face of a total stranger
And wanting to shout,
I love you!
This love, what do I do with it?
It longs to be expressed.
Make me an instrument of this love.
Let me love and be loved as Thee.

Seeing

My eyes really enjoy seeing.
Its all eye candy
Its More than candy,
MUCH more nutritious
I see colors, the world is super vivid
Life is vibrance.
I did not recognize the gladness
That seeing brings into
My life
Until today.

For me, words get fewer and fewer.
Life, so drenched in beauty
In a puff of vapor
I see possibilities
The outlines of things
Back-lit...
A small shift
Sometimes makes
It a great shot

I see things.
And my seeing
frames a story told with
In sight.

Intact

What is my next move?
I wonder...
Meanwhile, movement is happening...
I am tapping the keys
Words are forming
Co-alescing
into a picture
Of myself upon an ocean liner
going some place far away
For a while...
Meeting someone.

How will this take place?
I wonder.
It will take place
Without any contrivance on your part
Says a voiceless voice.
Simply wait.
Pull in the thoughts
And watch them roll around in the empty can
For a while.
Loud rattle of green marbles
But soon they find a pathway out and
Glide down the exit ramp.
Meanwhile, I am intact.

New Rain

I was walking along doing some thing.
I looked up and caught sight of my reflection.
I was dazzled by the radiance.
“Is that me?” I thought.
A cloud scudded across the sky.
“Is that really me??”
Two clouds.
Soon, a gathering of clouds.
Darkness, thunder, rainfall.

Don’t you love the sharp, metallic smell of
new rain upon the earth?

Four out of Eight...

Were visible.
The other half, invisible.
I feel them surround me
Protection, Raphael, Gabriel, Insight
And me, containing the strength
Created by all that support.

Why am I supported so, I wondered?
Why do I need an army of angels?
I await the answer,
it will come to me in a flash of insight!

Reveressence

A tickle at the root
A trickle at the root
The trick is in not minding it
In no sense, unwinding it
Ground water, like an army
Soon grows into a spring
Of harmonious energy
Surfacing to sing a song
That flows, outpours
The Essence
Restores the world to Innocence.

Whole Futures

Moonlight in my eyes
Poetry in my soul
Sweet rush of chaos
How can I explain?
Words betray me, they
Appear faster than I can write.
Images flash by
Whole futures,
God awake in the world,
Golden ages.
Images last longer, a half-life,
And I strive to grasp them
Render them
Tell them
What I see.

Spirit speaks

I’m writing poems again.
A sure sign that my spirit is returning
Or is it me that is returning to it?

The fact that I refer to my spirit as ‘it’
Is a dead giveaway for who’s speaking

Does spirit speak?

And am I that spirit?
Would not I have more certainty if that were so?
Or am I in fact both spirit and matter?

Not wanting anymore to fling my body aside
Like a silk shirt on a hanger
Flapping disconsolately in the wind.

No, now I want to inhabit this body
Occupy this physical space
Make my Presence felt

An unmanifested vision is but a fantasy.
I see too much in the eyes in my head
And feel too little of what’s in here.
In here things are different.
Saner. Holier.
It is wholly I speaking
And when I speaks
I speaks with Love.
Love loves death,
and Love loves life
And God is a whisper away,
on the next pillow……

Brother Sun, Sister Moon

The Moon was full, high in the sky this morning
I did not intend to wake for the sunrise.
But both the Sun and the Moon beckoned me.
So I rose unresisting.
And headed for the hills.

No Moon in sight.
No Sun either.
Just me, the dogs, the birds
And the promise of another unpredictable moment.

For fifty years I've been asleep
To the magic of sunrise.
Asleep to the Presence
That comes with new light everyday.
But today is another day, and if I'm lucky
I'll have another chance tomorrow.

Awash in mist, the whole hillside
Waits with bated breath
For the pale gold orb that rises
delicately above the blanket of mist below.

The cool wash of morning chi energy
Swims up my spine...
The whisperless reward for those who
greet the gift of Dawn

Gratitude wells up in me every morning
To know that Sunrise is free
And it is everywhere,
Everyday.
The only thing I need to do
to receive this gift
is be Awake.