In The Aching Out

In the aching out

Of separation from the Source,

In that desperation

Of the body without,

Energy in that fraught moment

Disbelieved

And transformed into a mind robbing truth,

The inner sun eclipsed

Until all is gripped anxiety

And the thieving hunger

Drawn from soul

Reluctant in the giving.

In that moment,

In the knowing of that bitter biting absence,

That disconnected fatigue

And adrenal drift of dept,

Caffeine flowing

In the pressured veins,

In that moment

Of seeing the truth of untruth

And the untruth of lovelessness,

The love to flood the self is found,

And all that was

Is warmed

And looked upon

With tender eyes

That seed no malignancy,

Only the simple need

That needs

Parenting

By the blessed touch of grace.

Beautiful Knife

Upon me rolls the wave

Of being,

Brought by the voice of the bird

Invisible in the thicket.

With the pick of her beak

And blade of her song

She cuts

The monoculture of mind

Bent on blandness

And domination,

And frees me

From the world of my cage

To world of my own.

Tell Me There Is No God

Tell me there is no God

And I shall die in my garden

Breathing the wonder,

My brain obliterated

By the green spring

And the blackbird

Fluorescing

Music and magnitude

And wielding the shrill knife

Of beauty’s grievous wound,

And I will say nothing,

But put the pen

On the paper

And write my pitiful, joyous attempt

At the writing of it,

And die in my tears

And laugh in my tears,

And cry for the love

That kills me

As I feel

Its world-ending enormity.

The Heart Sun

The sun gives

Without question,

Pulsing with energy

In an ever outward movement,

Gifting without requirement,

Being because it is.

And we, the myriad life

In all our forms

Receive this gift,

And dance

In light transformed,

Wholly containing it.

The inner sun,

The sun of our heart

Is not different

Or a photon less

Than its heavenly reflection

Benevolent beyond our sky.

Divine Mother

The mother gives

The gift, the life, the energy.

She is

In the shape of

The mother beyond the world,

Who breathes life

Into existence.

The mother is deity in earthly form,

No less than God

But no more than the mothers

In time, who populate the ages,

And bring new life

Time and time again.

They are her

As she is them.

In their hearts

They know her

Although not all resonate

With her full magnitude.

When she gives

The world is more

For she is the blood in the veins

And breath coming freely,

Filling the lungs,

And elevating the body

And the mind

With the gift of Source

Given infinitely

As a stream of love without end.

Am I A Woman Or A Man?

The masculine polarity is lorded

In my mind.

The feminine principle is subjugated.

Am I a man or a woman?

I deem certain characteristics

As female attributes. Certain others,

I assign to the realms of the male.

Am I a woman or a man?

I raise my children

To view the world as I do,

They believe nearly all I taught.

Are they male or female?

My thoughts are riddled with bias

And unconscious design,

A rigorous conditioning.

Am I female or male?

I am a part of society,

Constructing the ‘how is’

In my action and inaction.

Am I masculine or feminine?

Am I a woman or a man,

A man or a woman,

A female or a male,

A male or female?

Am I jointly responsible?

Am I equally responsible?

Am I free of constraint

Or bonded to the ideas I believe?