I walk in reality, breathing the breath,
Feeling the body, seeing with the eyes.
The world is beautiful
For it happens
Despite the thoughts in my head.
The garden grows, expands into spring,
The foliage lush with promise.
The cat sits by the pond, under the
Blossoming trees, and amid daffodils.
He breathes the air too,
Watching, always watching,
Thinking not one moment beyond the
Moment he’s in.
The angry mind and the put upon
Seeks its justice.
Who better
Than your polar self
To carry the ills
And the blame
So you may remain innocent
And put upon still.
Who raises the boys?
Who raises the girls?
In whose mind
Are the toxic stereotypes?
Who carries the bias?
Is the domination occurring
Out there or within the framework
Of mind?
Who perpetrates,
keeps the system going,
Passing it through the generations?
Who are the parents of our collective Psychology?
Who is the mother?
Who is the father?
Are we not all children, osmosing
The faults that came before,
Then offering them
To our children
And the children to come?
Who is responsible?
Who is responsible?
Who is responsible?
You are responsible.
You are responsible.
You are responsible.
Turn away the eyes
And comfort the ears:
Let the news fade
So all the angry voices are quietened,
Their fear lessened,
Their turmoil stilled,
The mangled knot of fractions thought
Fermenting doom and worse
Popped in the corner and ignored.
What is the real news,
The new news
Born in the self centre,
In the place that is no place,
The voice speaking
Of heart
And love
And truth,
That we are more
Than these jagged thoughts
Blown out of all proportion
And enlarged
Into flagrant monsters?
We are more than this:
More in the quiet place,
The stillness,
The ever expanding space
Of new ideas
Made from nothing.
The time has come to acknowledge love
And its infinite yet subtle process,
It’s utter gift,
It’s ubiquitous and never failing availability;
For it is free for all to take their fill,
And given wholly
To ever single one of us.
The flower of my heart
Blooms on a stem
Of gossamer energy,
Upsurging from the world
Behind the world,
The space that is formless.
My heart smiles on me
As the heart behind the heart smiles,
As love comes
Like a river from the source:
Like a river from the source
Provided endlessly.
When we are not love
We are but the echo of the past
Thrown into the future,
For as we were made
So shall we make the world.
Only in love
Are we exposed,
Waking from the dream
Of happening without volition,
Happening without choice or will.
Only in love
Can we see the bones
Of being,
And choose,
Choose our way through.
Love is movement,
A gift,
Unowned
Yet given.
You can not hold it
Only ask
Or make a beautiful wish
Or speak a prayer
To expand and broaden the world.
It is not yours
But you may use it,
Feel the expansion
As it flows away,
Your life acknowledged
As it leaves,
Yourself made Infinitely fertile.
For as it is given
The well refills
The source expands
And you are changed,
Lighter for the affirmation,
Joyous because you are more,
Loving because you gave it all away.
Gentle, gentle, gentle light
You are the mother’s smile
Upon the newborn child,
A gift
In loving wonderment.
And who upon the earth
Is not lifted by this?
Whose heart is not afloat
Despite the wretched mires
Of fearful belief?
Whose heart does not beat
In time with this deeper song?
Thank you for this gentle light
Bathing both body and mind,
Infusing the raw matter
With the seed of life
And holding the heart aloft
In its rightful place,
In love’s essential spirit.
The heart
Through which I look
Burns like a torch.
Like the sun, it does not combust
But ejects the plasma of love,
The light of life
Bringing all things to seeing.
The heart
Through which I look
Is ever replenishing.
The matter of it conveys my words,
Offering warmth in waves,
Carrying all things
Within the everness of its totality.
The morning is fresh
Upon the dew soaked forms
Called to their greater love
In the body of the sun.
Everything is light
And as apparent as my condensing breath,
The world and my heart alive,
Brought by a transient glistening.
I would give you the warmth of my heart,
Let it out free
So we might sit
In the joy of togetherness,
Knowing that the warmth is neither you
Or me, being wholly unowned
And untouched by our mind’s dabbling.
I would give you the warmth of my heart,
To know the warmth of my heart
And because
This is how it was meant to be,
You and I friends,
Free in our being,
Happy because we are.
I would give you the warmth of my heart,
For the gift is ours
Only in its giving,
And I am tired of the old ways
Of a scant life attempted
In the absence of love.
distilledvoice 