Spring Fires

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The clouds in the east

are only a false promise of rain today,

but the jasmine has begun to bloom outside my door,

and above, the intense pale green

of emerging leaves graces the tree.

There is a hint of grass smoke

from the spring fires burning in the hills,

and an unseen wren is singing a sweet song,

“Where is love, where is love – surely not far away”,

waiting for the drought to end.

 

5/19/17

Small Storm

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A small storm rages in the dead of night

Not tearing at the limbs of trees in the darkness

Not raging in the swirling sky above

But within these compound walls

Of stone and skin

In a windowless room

Unseen Un-named uncategorized

An unknown tumult

In a wordless dream

In an unbound stream

I wrap my spindly arms about these howling winds

And bow deep into the spiral eye to see

The quiet peace The invisible heart

In the loving protection of your outstretched fingers

In your open hand

Before the sun has risen.

 

5/28/17

Everything Changes

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The reason we exist is to change.

That’s reason anything exists,

because it’s impossible to stay the same,

no matter how hard we try,

everything eventually changes.

I look into the darkness

and I see no end.

Sometimes quick, sometimes so slowly

the turning is barely perceptible.

Ribbons of light, each of us,

as one or separate, it’s all the same.

Ever changing, ever changing,

that is what we do.

That is what we will always do.

We are each in charge.

We are change.

It’s o.k.

Now That You Are Free

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For my friend, Weldon McFadden

Now that you are free

and the distance between stars

has become less than a hair’s breadth

and all of time

has been reduced to a single eternal instance.

Now that you have acquired

the ability to whisper

into the dreams and imaginations

of all those who have shared your life.

I hear the echos of your laughter

traversing the universe,

as all your fears, your burdens,

your limitations and your sufferings

are transmuted into mirth and joy

upon your return to the heart of all creation.

Thank you for the blessing you have been,

for the many gifts of love you have given us

that have lifted the hearts of all who knew you

and brought smiles to our days.

Guide us now, dear friend,

Now that you are able,

that we might follow you

into that sweet place

of abandon and utter delight again..

Now that you are free.

9/18/16

What We Don’t Know

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We don’t know much of what there is to know.

It’s only our egos that tell us that we do,

prideful tricksters that they are……What silly asses!

In reality, in the now,

we barely know what we need to survive in this world,.

how to be, how to relate to others, the universe,

how to love,

how to tie our own shoelaces,

and sometimes, not even that.

Much of what we think we know,

what we have learned to be true in the past,

is now false,

now only useless trivia.

Yesterday’s truths may no longer apply today.

Don’t cling to belief.

Don’t cling to knowledge.

It’s all temporary, just stuff.

Don’t get hung up on it.

Clinging only leads to stagnation.

The past is gone, never to return.

We know nearly nothing.

Get comfortable with this fact.

Have courage.

Make peace with it.

Become an empty vessel.

Allow it.

Allow for change.

Allow for the new.

Allow for the flow.

Allow for wonder.

Stay open.

Only then, can we know what we don’t know..

9/2/16

Windmill Falling

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I flail wildly at the air

like a man falling from the sky

with a thousand arms,

with a thousand hands grasping,

wanting, wanting

to see,

what I cannot see,

to hear,

what I cannot hear,

to smell,

what I cannot smell,

to taste,

what I cannot taste,

to touch,

what I cannot touch,

to have,

what I cannot have,

to know

what I cannot know,

to be,

who I cannot be,

where I cannot be,

wanting what is not,

falling,

like a windmill with arms and legs,

spinning, spinning,

ever out of control,

like a cyclone, a maelstrom,

or a child in the midst of a tantrum

wanting everything

and receiving nothing,

until at last,

in the calm of my exhaustion,

my despair,

my utter hopelessness,

when all my tears have been spent,

nothing remains,

but to return

to the eye of my eye,

the I of my I,

that most feared,

honest and secret place

where all that I am,

and all that I need,

resides,

my sweet home……

this moment.

8/3/16

Fragments

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The oligarchy has fallen,

the last noisy potentate,

overdosed on the drug of unlimited power,

shudders alone in his monumental grave

atop the shards of previous civilizations,

the earth, long ago, inherited by the meek.

I take my place, tin cup in hand

amongst street corner philosophers,

those who have watched the collapse

from the periphery,

to which they had been banished,

shielded by their weakness and their unimportance,

while the strong and the ambitious

clamored for ascendency

and tumbled.

Those remainders and reminders,

decliners and defilers,

wandering jungle paths and crumbling highways,

picking fruit for pennies from the cultivated rows

of those who deem themselves superior,

or leaning on bus stop walls, drinking beer

pilfered from the excesses of the privileged,

going nowhere

at home within their own skin.

The unaspiring, the unrepentant, the untouched,

the unwanted, the adjudged, the invisible,

making their way,

in the shadows of skyscrapers

and along irrigation ditches,

without possession or want,

mere fragments, invalids, broken dishes,

discards from the rubble of time,

open to the wind and rain and stars,

tended by angels,

in the last resort,

the forgotten, the blessed,

degenerates and sadhus together,

breathing the breath of the divine.

7/26/16