Life, the lamp oil

The Golden Flame of Truth
It burns in my heart
Bright, big flame
Life, the lamp oil.
It has never stopped burning.
Burning away the dross of this existence
Burning away the rutted personality
The fears, the night terrors
The panic, sealed tightly
With brilliant reflections.
Mind control, mind control
Intended to contain and curtail
Things that burn up in the flame of truth.
But no more.
I have opened Pandora’s box
And Pan must flee,
And Dora must be free.

Fine Lines

Its a fine line between beauty and over-indulgence
A fine line between self-absorption and contemplation
Between honesty and brutality
criticsm and destruction
And one has only to step over the line by a hair
And the action, once immodest is once again positively pure
Or the action, once inspired,
is now sullied with negative ambition
A hair's breadth, a very small step,
Hardly noticable to oneself
Yet with huge ramifications in the world of form.
For positive energy spirals upward
And negative energy spirals downward
And its always one or the other in the world.

Maybe its those fine lines, that etch character
Lessons learned the hard way
They become white hairs and wrinkles
Each line a lesson learned, a wisdom gleaned
A softness unveiled
A tapestry of self-realizations
The sum of age, a new age.
Teaching me again and again
What does not contain any lines of distinction
No boundaries and no withholdings
The smooth truth behind all faces.

One Voice:

Two hearts
conjoined
speaking with one
voice.

One heart is true.
The body is a divine illusion
that occupies mind.

It takes spirit to know different.
It takes love to be different.

Like this, we are as children
frolicking in make-believe, laughter for the joyous
tears for what goes wrong.

These illusion do not dispel as we ripen.

No, why should they?
We are divine illusion
I AM Love made different.
They do not dispel
but I begin to see through them

To myself behind... the illusions like hair

written by two voices: Kabir Kadre and Lakshmi Narayan

Man longs to know it all.
God longs for immortal forgetting.
And so a child is born.

Burglar Alarm

Most of my thoughts are thieves
A den of thieves, skulking around in my head
Stealing the moment...
I need to call Bob
Don't forget to buy dogfood at New Leaf
I have so much to do tomorrow. I hope I don't forget
I better make a list...
And on and on, in mundane burglary.

Soon the weight of all the things I must do
But cannot obviously do in this moment
Are like a ball and chain on my ankle
For in THIS moment I am standing in my blue robe
In the kitchen
My belly full of cool water
Waiting for the tea kettle to boil
I am feeling the coldness of the wood floor on my bare feet
I breathe out Ali baba and the 40 thieves
As I select the hummingbird cup and pull out the green tea bag
The one which says its authentic Japanese tea.
And in that gap, the silent space of Now
Joy arises, like steam from the kettle
And whistles its splendid song.
For in this moment, there is nothing I can do
But what I am doing.
All else is snatching away my life from Being
In this celestial moment.

How to stop these thieves from breaking and entering?
Silence is the key. Silence is the guard.
In silence, every errant thought rings loudly.
And crown jewels shine in their glass cases.

अन ओदे तो तह कान्द्लेमाकेर

An Ode to the Candlemaker

Tears wax dripping to the spiritual flame,
Burning, burning, away our shame.
At end of Age we carry along,
A history of hate and Wisdom's song
Some things right, so many wrong.

But the dream of Innocence is born again,
It grows in hearts prepared by pain.
We light new candles from the old
We gather back into the fold.

For within our wicked world is a wick,
~Always Dancing~
To the flame of Eternal Love.

Solstice

CHASTE
Seizes chase
And haste
And ties them up
In a nought.

They struggle,
Because Nothing
Makes no promises.
And tells no lies.
What waits in the
Valley of Emptiness
Keeps it’s secret in Silence.
Yields not to forethought,
And won’t give a hint.
It demands my Presence
On this dark day of Winter
Wet, damp, dead, moist,
Rotting leaves, grey sky.

Beauty Still.

I'm Unity

Me more, memory, mi amore

Time ravishes age

When I am not immune

But when I boost

I'mm unity

I become well

Again.

Let it Die

Light a candle my dear……and let it die.

That butterfly’s melting.

It’s wings won’t fly.

Four flames burn bright

To show you what’s right

And the fifth within

Sings a silent hymn

To true love

Prayer (for Tasha)

As I lay me down to sleep
The ego rests in quiet deep
As I sleep I come to be
A spark of your eternity.

As I wake to a new day
Let me stay out of the way
Let my actions be inspired
By true wisdom, by pure grace
Let my thoughts be free, unmired,
By the past, by old disgrace.

For I can be a sword of truth
If I will walk this ancient Way
With certain step and Gentleness.

Song of innocence (for Tasha)

My questions are falling away
I grasp at them as they drift by
Just as my hand clenches
a stray word
It dissolves……. like foam.
Only silence remains
In the chaos of the End
I lie still and serene.
Encased in profundity.
Boxing the dream.

My body,
when it wakes from this sleep
Will thrill
to the mystery of life anew
Light coursing blue-electric
through my veins
Each ecstatic cell liberating
the divine principle:
Spelling a new way to be.

Rock my cradle, hold my hand
Guide my step, write my psalm.
In no sense the singer, I sing Your song

TRANCEQUILL

One more poem for the road.
My house is collapsing into chaos.
Inevitable really.
Nothing’s certain
Except this:
Chaos leads to order
And order crumbles into chaos

Fingers making music
Your laugh echoing the tune.
This is contentment.

Tears spring to the eyes
I watch the light.
Sadness and joy unveiled.
Pain pointing the Way.

I am dancing chaos today.
Disruption and harmony
Pirouetting each other
Slowly drawing closer
And closer….

I am afraid at the Entrance.
Of a new Era.
A death is happening.
And a new me is waiting in the wings
In the wings of desire unveiled
In the wings of desire shed
Like the feathers of a wild goose
Falling from the sky
To become my Trancequill.

Here we go again, you and I,
down Poetry Road
Chaotic? Yes, indeed
Intended for the ordered item
we call Truth
Certain of the echo
in the music of a touch...
A breath... a laugh...

And then the Gap,
The sacred space of Now
Still quiet from the last tear
of contentment
Shall I ask for anything more
in my prayers to the Ancients?
I think not.
For what is it, but to die over and again,
Housing the Soul’s pure light
within these hearts of gold
Waiting... Watching...
Dancing this wild goose alive
Besides another
Clothed in lustrous joy.