Where Do I Write Me?

How do I write me?
How do I write that blood clings to the moon?
How do I tell about the hearth that is my heart
That there is magic in even the smallest of parts
Tiny mighty cells living to protect the light of Spirit.

Careers and money are the Atlas of dreams
Do you know whose dreams you are carrying?
How do you write me? How are we what we seem?
Do you use words that describe the eyes of others?
For the internet is filled with billions of eyes.

Monotony is just a veil made of habit and sloth
Boredom only protects ego in singular obsession
Many are the dog that chews its feet chasing a tail
The path that is wonder leads way beyond the pale
Beyond and inside magazine homes and starry spaces

Go, Go, Go!

You are in every path at once and the same;
There is no such thing as the crossroads
There is no such thing as the outside and the in.
Expand as the universe expands into every clime,
Every part of the leaf of the stem is of the vine.
Every part of you is a part of me a part of we.

How do I write this?
Do I have to make myself an ego or a god or a dog?
Do I have to be something that I can sell or buy?
What becomes of Earth when we are our products,
the internet of things, concepts,  personalities?

What becomes of the Spirits who roam the land,
A few can see them unattached to God or to sand,
forgotten as Earth has been forgotten in offices
In meeting rooms, and in flicking wide screen TVs
Where do I write this? Where do we write me?

The Ache of Earth in Your Dreams

It is difficult to speak the hard truths,
not the truth about someone else’s politics
nor the truth about someone else’s lies,
but the truth about our Earth is hard

that we’ve replaced mystery with dogmatic Ego,
that we’ve disconnected from our birth and death
ignorant of ancient wisdom, indigenous myths,
stories of the underworld and all the heavens

for those have been replaced with psychology:
desires and lusts of Ego struggling to be free
who loves to sing of woe twisted in mortal coil
a vulture without feet to touch a river streaming

The Ego stands here hovering but never moving

seeking the remains of success and riches renown
but in the labyrinth of mind are empty treasures,
never balance, never fulfillment will it ever find,
for it’s severed itself from the roots of the land

and that is the Ego, jealous of the apple tree flowers,
and envious of what remains of Earth’s honey bees,
don’t you notice the Ego inside and outside you?
don’t you feel the ache of Earth in your dreams?