Too often
We seek the answer
In the dry bones of thought,
Picking like carrion crows
For something edible,
A scrap among the dust.
And again we seek love
In dry thought
And find ourselves wanting,
Thirsting for a truth
Devoid where we look.
Where is this love
Of which some are flushed
Easy
In rich abundance,
Drinking as they wish?
For I go always
To the arid thoughts
And suck
For marrow
Long since desiccated,
Wishing it was wet
Like a spring.
Where is this love
That thought has promised
But fails to deliver?
For his promises
Are as juicy
As a succulent fruit
That I never get to taste,
Hovering always out of reach
Distant upon the horizon.
Where is this love
For which I have sought
Like a mad man
In the desert
Drinking only mirages?
For I have looked
Under every stoney thought
And found nothing
To quench this thirst,
Finding only dehydrated
Thoughts
Forever wanting,
No hint of Source
In thought,
Nothing to wet my tongue
And bring me home
To love,
Only these parched thoughts
Thinking
And thinking.
awakening
Choice
The mind
Offers a key
In the latch
And a compelling reason
To open the door
And walk
Along the avenue of suffering.
And for so long
You watched your hand reach
For the key
And fell through
The door
Like a bad dream recurring,
Travelling that road
As if you had no will to change.
And yet when you stand here now
On the threshold
With your hand upon the key
Some other voice speaks
Like a murmuring of love
And says,
All is well my friend,
Trust in me
Who offers no evidence
But for the fullness of the moment.
See the mechanism
Of the key
Turned in the lock
And the mind’s
Invitation to suffering.
See that desolate walk
- That well-worn track -
As not the truth
The mind suggests
Is paramount
But simply a choice
Of which door
You wish to open,
Which road
You wish to tread.
Eat
I could eat
The words
Right off your tongue
And find them digested
Even before
I have swallowed them down
For your shaped sentiments
Rolled like curved vowels,
Considered, sculpted
Then spoken aloud
Are like
A light
To the light
That shines
And does not shine
But fills
To repletion’s end.
For digestion
Is
The sweetness
That we find
To be
When we eat
What we are.
Together, We Are
If there was
A you and I
We would
Be sitting together now
Laughing at the world
And the ways
Humans like to dance.
But there is no you
And no I
Here to dance
Though it seems
Like that
Some days.
So what is there
Here between us?
There is no between
And no distance
And no time
And nothing
I would not see
As purely myself.
And so,
We sit together
Divided by oceans
But bound
By the ocean of love
Of which we are
Wholly ourselves,
And we laugh
As if
There was a you
And I
Siting beside one another
Content
To watch the world dance.
Path
Brother,
Stand unashamed
In the truth
Of your enquiring self.
You are he
Who must ask questions
To quench his thirst.
You cannot fight
Your birthright
Or the way
You are in the world.
Rest in this knowledge
That the path is right,
And your place on it
Is where you must be.
There is a deep truth
In acceptance
Of all
That you are
And all you have taken on.
Only this
Will see you transformed
And untransformed.
How you are
Is the truth
As it stands
In the moment.
There is sweetness here
Even while bitterness
Is tasted.
There is great freedom
To be powerless
Before God
To be as He is
To be as He is.
The Yoga Of Friendship
Dearest friend
I could sit in the silence of our being
And dwell satisfied
In the knowledge
That we are joined in the heart of our life,
For our friendship
Is not based on superfluous traits
But deep seated
And deep rooted
And deep found
In the beginnings of our self
Where we are one:
One, to the exclusion of other,
One, to the exclusion of else,
Simply and only one,
Where friendship is shared
And where all that seemed separate
Is found to be joined
And all that seemed divided
Is unified and whole.
I Love You
Who are you
Being
That I should love you
With but the love you bring,
For in your arms
I am loved
By the love
Only the beloved sings.
Is this a paradox of madness,
Imagination’s great leap
Into the unknown?
No, for I know you
⁃ Warmth of sweetest certainly –
For you come to me
As me,
And only as the One
Are you One being.
–
Oh, if I could but convey
That which I don’t understand!
If only I could muster what I feel
Through the heart’s open eye
And write the truth,
Evoke the love so evocative.
Yet,
Truly I am failing,
Though thankful to try,
For with each attempt,
Each unsuccessful bid
To describe the indescribable
I am drawn closer in
And likewise
The world is infused,
Being
Free
Every where, when and thing
In boundlessness.
And all that I am?
But a momentarily eddy in the energy sea
Arising as
⁃ I love you –
Like a strand of luminous,
Ephemeral light
Written on nothing
Yet somehow said,
And yet
Unsaid
And yet somehow still happening.
The Fluid Sea
The fluid sea washes
On the shores of myself,
Half mix
Of night’s starlight
Swirling among phosphorus blooms,
A myriad microorganisms
Mirroring heavenly cosmos.
–
I feel salt sea
The brine waters of myself
Pulsing in time
With all the universe,
For I am half mix
Of cosmos
Swirling skyward,
And the earthen matter
Transfixed and tied by gravity.
–
I am
But the fluid sea
Speaking in waves,
My pen sketching moonlight slithers
Silvering the cusp
Of words,
Half mix
Of universe
And the brine-like being
Bathing me.
Stable Ground
For all the gifts
The world would offer,
None is more than passing,
None less transient
Than the clouds
Ever changing face and form.
–
Who and what
Finds immunity
From THIS law?
What in all that slips
And falls apart
And wears out
And degrades
Offers immutability’s
Stable ground?
–
None but formlessness
–
None but nothing’s something
–
None but silence’s empty space.
–
Only here in nowhere
–
Where there is none but one
–
Is peace unnamed,
–
Unmade and unhappening.
The Moment Is Fresh
The moment is fresh
As dew-lubricated leaves
New from the womb of the world.
Oh, this sweet, empty moment,
Virgin as the first born thing,
How can I describe your unresistance
With but the clumsy word?
For you are nothing:
An endless, friendly nothing
Holding me in your arms,
Tender as the loving heart
Welcoming all that is.
You, who is no you,
You, who is everything
Seen and unseen,
Everything unformed or dwelling unchanging
In that which is not yet made.
–
The moment is fresh
And alive with infinite spirit,
And while the dogged mists and moods
Of false thoughts,
So seemingly bonded and glued,
Drift upon me from time to time,
Obscuring your brilliance,
They too, are born in you,
They too, arise in the light
Of awareness’s presence,
Taking their life
From the very light that you are.
