Bliss

Bliss

You are unending

You make me smile

and serenade you

I am a feather;

if I don’t breathe out

I will lift up

elevate

You are the light

that turns on

when the mind

turns off

You are the gift

that keeps on

giving

but doesn’t give up

You are the laughter

that

softens the

colors of time

You are everything

And you are nothing

Read More

Lucky You

lucky core
big inside you
flannel & gold
a weave that is true

lucky bird
inside that cage
seasons have passed
and so we age

Read More

Bad people and me in life, death, and rebirth.

The wind’s will wishes you not. For it switches you ever which way it would blow. You point past the peaks and say go.
 
It makes shapes of scapes and says no. rebirthYou work and prod and pull and full, you say ho! But then the sails for which your rails were meant to fill, now fall with no frill and you say, oh.
 
Left chaste, debased, with cause to erase the chase and the case you held against your own wind of sin and sorrow sown, you blow and blare into the air in hopes that you might know. Now freed to peace in pieces and ceased you then begin to grow.
 
What shapes and scapes that rapes the fate of places which we go? Too many names are there that blow the air and cheat its mighty row. I’ll keep attention in one direction and tell you when I know. Or keep an eye upon the sky until then when I go.
 
Then say what’s fore, belief found core, and un-envelope once more.
Read More

Space and Spots

Space and Spots. For you just dots. But please let me play.
Space and Spots. To you just plots. But please let me stay.
Space and Spots. In you it rots. I can’t just walk away.
Space and Spots. Perhaps like knots. Can unravel it you say?
Space and Spots. It in no way nots. You are here another day.
Space and Spots. With your pans and pots. May we feast without delay.

Read More

What Moves Us All to Dream

What moves us all to dream,
to think, to love, to act,
to give it up for some great cause
or double back to pause before our plans
of having more or getting there
or going to the country fair
is the same for everyone:
the sage, the fool, the king,
the self-appointed ministers of fun.

Einstein said it best, I think,
or maybe it was Rumi,
both of whom were missing links
from this to that, from here to there,
mystics of the unseen arts,
demystifying what it is that moves the air
and the human heart.

Still I wonder what it is I thirst for in my bones,
what will be enough to feel.
Is it what I see with these two eyes
or what I know beyond them both
is always just a bit concealed –
that which seizes me from deep within,
the mirror of my soul, my other half, my perfect twin,
the one who knows, but doesn’t tell
or if he does, it’s just enough
to dig my tunnel deeper to the well
where all the seekers that I am have come to drink,
long before the first parable was told.

excerpted from The Heart of the Matter

Read More

These Incredible Threads

These incredible Threads
In the Garment you Weave
Have been tangled in my Heart
Since the Begining of Time

Their color is Deep and Rich and Sincere;
Their intention is Good, Their disposition,
Fair and Gentle.

Read More