The branch hangs heavy

How fortunate I am to reach this flight

This stairstep of surrenders

This stairway to heaven

I am feeling the wholeness of my being

The deadness of past disappointments

As they rise up in me momentarily

I see that this, this pre-occupation

Does not satisfy me anymore

I long no more for something more from you

But seek to fulfill something more in me

That is being, becoming

Crystalline forming

Un in habited territory

Of my own consciousness

Awaiting my attention.

Just Grace

What do I know?
What do I no?
No gate, posit ion or place
no poems colliding in space
No race, no case
Just grace

Tunneling to freedom

I dreamt I was crawling through a tunnel
On all fours.
Sharp stones pricking my knees,
My head hitting the ceiling.
It was dark and uncomfortable, that tunnel
Like Papillion
I was escaping from a prison
Except mine was a mental prison
And I am tunneling my way out
With every golden word I write and speak.
Although I cannot see the light
At the end of this tunnel
I know that freedom
Awaits me at the other end.
Freed from my own miss-conceptions
Doubt-FREE I will BE!

The Army

Stillness beckons me

Into the heart of matter.

The heart of the matter.

The heart of the mater.

The mother, no Other.

Gives birth to understanding...

Stillness.

Elusive…

If I try to banish all thought.

And quieten all feeling.

But emerging, when I

Sink into the feeling,

Of jealousy, Of judgment, Of discontent

And find that there

Is no depth AT ALL

To that feeling…

It scurries about

On the surface of my consciousness,

Within, just under-standing,

Is a vast repository

Of positive energy

Waiting to be unleashed into action.