I could sit on the train forever
Going somewhere
Going nowhere,
My heart an empty space
Through which love travels
Carrying me as passenger.
self
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.
Sweet Spring Wonder
In the sweet spring wonder
The bud of my life opens,
Synchronised with the buds
Of the earth.
The air contains me
And the quivering bird,
Its heart broken open,
Broken into song.
Morning is beautiful,
Fresh as imbibed breath,
Acknowledged
As spirits subtle vapour.
The scent is the hawthorn
Of my childhood,
When I first saw,
When my eyes were first open.
I am here again,
Bathed in deliciousness,
Open mouthed
That I should be.
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.
Walking In The Supermarket
On the shelves
There are all the goods
You would expect:
Produce in colourful array.
There are people milling in the aisles,
Shop assistants serving,
Trollies wheeled,
Announcements made.
In this
You move, breathe, exist.
Reality happens – reality is.
What more could you possibly want?
Happiness
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.
Toxic Femininity/Masculinity?
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.
The New News
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.
Source
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.
Only In Love
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.
distilledvoice 