We speak of wishes, casting stones and watching them land where we want them to go, saying for us what we wish to see, become.
Having thrown enough stones, we find, one day, that we’ve become the caster and the stone, both the intention and the outcome of that willed desire.
And that’s worth drinking to.
I had few answers, many questions.
So many questions I had stored.
Yet every sunrise woke me nourished
Questions felt settled every morn.
When angst or anger took my bridle,
When patience leaked and I’d none left,
I’d take my leave from earthly matters,
Shut off the noise, became a speck.
And watched the sunrise from the heavens,
Where things are clear and just and true.
Where everyone is love and honor,
And you can simply rest in you.
Like weather,
Moods are transient.
Thoughts dash on through,
Sparkplugging loins.
Coward! My mind,
When in the light of
Presence.
Hides its dark cape
And shadows joins.
It can not coexist,
My ignorance,
With clarity, abundance,
or with love.
I visit basements
Of my psyche.
But choose to tea
With floors above.
2 Some things are ours entirely.
They can’t be shared,
Transferred in words.
Maybe a glance, a pause
a twirl
Can tease the scent,
but nothing more.
Within the colors of this earth,
and in the sunlight streaming through,
amidst the sands upturned by our weary steps,
and in the lonesome forrest howl,
It’s always there, if we but look.
And smiles may spread across your face.
Because no matter how it seems,
the endless joy that mustered all is giggling.
Inspiration is really like an illness.
It tempts, with muses
Golden like the sun.
You cannot sleep, nor eat, nor ponder.
Anything but what you are called on
To become.
Stomach in knots;
The mind now single-pointed.
You beg for sleep, for ease, for calm.
The work becomes your only salve for hunger,
The quest becomes the only balm.
And then the thing is born!
Your arms flop down calmly.
The brow relaxed, food interesting
Again.
But only for a while,
As inspiration beckons,
With might and fury of a hundred men.
When withered arms
Reach out to hug,
The shameful feelings
Of disgust
Are thrust
Upon us.
Until we grab
The reigns of
Presence
And recall
The rules
We follow in this place,
The aging
That we all
Must face
And hug them back.
To know once more
That we are here
To share our love
For as below
So is above.
And we will
Not escape
The frailing limbs
Nor sagging skins
Not death.
Exalted only
By the love
We dare to share
With all we meet
And standing firm
In our resolve
To have our
Hearts forever beat
In gratitude
For every breath
We get.
It just so happens
That the leaves are falling.
My now is chilly and gray skied.
The trees begin to enter gentle slumber.
The New York City skunks and squirrels hide.
It just so happens
That I returned to Gotham.
Not understanding why I had at first.
Dragged by my collar, kicking,
My quiet nows prepared me for the worst.
It came - the thundered roar of knowing.
It came - by thwarting plans and swiftly changing winds.
I stay - for now - until another knowing
Replaces this one
And feeds me a new whim.
On the wings of desire
We go where we go.
Aware of the motion and locomotion,
Of the musings of our wants.
We thrive when we can hear them
And be discerning.
When all else fails.
When all you’ve left to do is drop your hands to the sides and say, “I’ve done it. I’ve done it all.”
When you can’t breathe because it all fell apart.
When your life seems to steer you in a direction you have no control over or understanding of.
When the love of your life is no longer that.
When your business bores you and feels wrong.
When expectations tumble and nothing works.
Stop.
Something will come through.
There comes a time
When war
Is no longer an option.
It seems
At times
The only way
The only way
But life has powers
Of disconnecting
And peacefully
Abstracting
Facts
So that we rest
We stop
We pray.
That familiar sense
Of falling.
We’re clenching shut,
Protecting ourselves
from the world.
But.
What if instead
We opened wider?
And allowed the unfamiliar
Pouring in of all?
If I fall on my face,
Lead-headed and full of confusion,
I hope that you
Lovingly lift me
And remind me that all thoughts
Incorrectly directed
Tarnish the bowl of the mind.
If I step off of my path,
Imploring you to follow,
That you will gently remind me
The way I had set for myself
Aeons ago.
If I hurt you with words harsh,
I hope you will patiently listen
And brush them away,
Knowing that who I am
Is not this.
Laugh if you need to,
Splash water on my face,
Put me out of the house,
Withhold your loving embrace.
Whatever it takes
To remind me of my Self.
