Aftermath

In an inSTant, a serpent on a tree.
A Mystery.
Humanity a hundred billion cells projected.
Self the trajectory,
Dying in the aftermath of an Original idea.

This I Know.

The bottomless Mystery,
She dwells in Me.

The midnight Earth,
Belongs to the Free.

Freedom does not come unsought.
Freedom does not come when called.
Freedom does not come with age.

But Freedom comes when Life and Fate,
Conspire to rattle your Cage.

Arc Angel

I feel myself on the long arc of history
Time the Hologram
Myself Holo graphic
The Quest-in turned Outward.
I feel the pain in Dylan's voice, blowin' in the Wind
I feel myself full of Answers
And before they blow away in the Wind...
I'll blow your Mind with them.

Falling in Time

Let them all fall away.
The intentional transgressions,
the unintentional ones,
the aggressions, regressions,
digressions and progressions.

Time is just for giving.

Gilded Fool

Siezed by doubt.
Paralyzed before the next step:
Descent into Matter again.
People, opinions, ideas.
Some part of me wants to stay safe
And reclusive in my own energy.

But the voice holds the resonance of the heart
The eyes see-k the resonance of the soul
The body as bridge betwixt and between.
And I have a myth to unfold.

How can I traverse this path and come out laughing?

Wake up! Wake up! Oh gilded fool.
This is a ruse, it is the Muse
Preparing the soil of this native daughter
Making it impossible for any to doubt her.

Writing Destiny

I did not know you would come visit me today
I am overcome with joy
And the words bubble forth from my being
Words of celebration
of kinship
of total trust.
In the rightness of the universe
In the rightness of the originating force
Pure and positive
And right because I AM that originating force
I am that consciousness
And Heaven and I
Are one and the same
And we write my destiny together.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation

We walked into Oneness together, you and I
And in that split startled second
You held my hand
And we waded through the river
Like millions of years, like millionaires
We issued from the same liquid substance of matter.
I know you intimately, absolutely.
It’s a little scary, the absolution.
I didn’t know love could be so absolute.

TENABLE

A Decade Ends,
Decadence.
De-cadence.
Just dense.
Step it up,
Step within,
Remember the tune,
Cyclical like the moon.
Transcend dense.
Trance end dance.
Enligh-ten-ment,
Needs your at-ten-tion.

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.