Home
Life is a colourful maze of glorious adventures.
Each turn left or right, takes me to some unexplored places. Like sailing down a river to long-forgotten worlds, I find myself at peace knowing that every turn along the way will bring me closer to myself.
I marvel at the soft textures of materials and the brilliance of each scene that lands upon my screen.
Birds chirp happily in their nest, while summer brims with scents of bbq’d fish and mouthwatering melon.
My home unfolds before me in radiant colorings.
May I Stay Here Forever
May I stay here forever in this perfect place of peace with you —
the sacred space between in breath and out,
the final coming home,
timeless moment before the need for anything has risen,
Buddha enjoying his late afternoon nap
with no around to extract any meaning from it.
First, there is a breath,
and then, there is a second.
This is how I begin my long walk with you by the water’s edge,
cool white sand beneath both our feet.
Death of a Maori Poet
Tree let your raised arms fall
nor extend your vain entreaties to the radiant ball.
This is no gallant monsoon’s flash,
no dashing trade winds blast.
The fading green of your magic
emanations shall not make pure again
these polluted skies…. for this
is no ordinary sun
– HONE TUWHARE 1922-2008
published this poem “No Ordinary Sun” about nuclear testing in the pacific, in 1964, in his first volume of the same name. It was re-printed 10 times. I can’t help thinking he was one of the spearheads of the nuclear free movement that defines New Zealand’s foreign policy today .
Let us allow peace to reign from the natural radiance within us all.
I used to have a little badge from friends of the earth ” World peace begins at home”. My 16 year old daughter wears it now. Where there is life there’s hope.
This Thirst
There is an aching deep within my heartwhy dogs pace back and forth before a door
as their master turns for home.
Ah, this restlessness, this thirst, this ache,
this silent undertow inside
that takes me back to the hidden spring
where lions come to drink,
and snakes,
why birds sing when they are all alone
and the long ride home on an empty train
often feels like an arrival.
Life, and More Life…
today, I went to a funeral.
they’re now called memorials, or celebrations of life, rites of passage.
there are some mile-markers in life, in the monumental history of man, that never change, despite the changes in terminology and ornamentation that we apply on the outside.
this was the father of a good friend, a gentle and handsome man. a man truly wearing visible sweetness of the soul in his everyday demeanor.