Sunrise Opening

It’s as if Night showers shame upon her Days;
Just as Sea overruns Her bright and sandy shores
in a panic to silent Her secret songs once more,
so too does Night hold what is precious hidden.

So all is silent over that dark land and darker sea
except the cackling rows of the bickering crows
and wandering whispers of death and disease;
hearts anchored by fear, closed in anger seethe.

Still, at morn, the Sun shines and will shine again
but He begins softly illuminating in cooler colors
lights swirling within the moods of purple showers
a gentle portal for the Heart who wishes to open    

to stretch wide along yellow-tinged edge of Days,
His entire world: the good, the bad, is His music,
Love streaming from the radiance of Who He Is
whom Moon mirrors into a Night more fearless.

Sea of Awareness

Our awareness is as the sea. It ebbs and it flows. One day you are up, the next you are underwater nearly drowning. There are many creatures of the sea, some that look like you, and some that seem to want to consume you. There are warm currents and cold currents and they intermingle beneath the sun that scatters on the surface. The sea captures the rain from the clouds, returning them to where they began. The sea feeds and the sea destroys. All begins and ends in the sea. All are born and die here.

And there is a deep darkness in the depths of the sea, a place to where we shudder to travel, for it has not greeted our eyes.  We pretend it is not there, that hidden part of the sea, and remain on the top ever carried by the wind and the surface of the water. Always the clingers of the surface, are we. Always diminishing the importance at what below us might be.

But during the reign of the moon when, as the sun sleeps, she lights the way, that which from the bottom will surface to the top, These creatures will surface and you will experience beings that you never knew existed, some frightening, some kind and angelic, some beautiful, other terrible.  All the same, you will witness these if you stay open and vigilant beneath the light of the moon, and when you do, you will experience nothing short of wonder and glory, for all that was previously invisible to you, all that seemed impossible, was always ever here beneath you waiting for your discovery, for you to begin your life anew.

Modern Tree

We are as seeds of the giant trees,
and as time grows, so grow do we,
for we are on our way to ether sky,
growing stronger upwards to high;
yet suddenly we cease that blooming,
but continue expanding only wider.  
Year upon year, adding one more layer;
and within that armor, we grow staunch
more impervious to the windy elements
we become hard and cross, unbending;  
now as home both to eagle and to sparrow,
our first purpose a mere cup for our sorrow.

The Shady Tree (Returning to What Was Left Behind)

Climbed a mountain
then I turned around

Stevie Nicks, from “Landslide”

there were no trees in the playground’s grassy field
there were no friends, not on that day nor any other
I could hear the far laughter of the rest of the children
and distant laughter rings hollow and unsubstantial
like cackling branches as mighty frost breaks them

but there are spaces between the blades of grass
I tell you they are there, for I spent the time to ask;
in between the choking pride of green all around
confident they swarm towards the brightest sounds,
as ants below start praying for moon’s cooler songs

I’d watch the ants go to and fro between what is tall
for there are little highways giving transport to all
but no tree was there to give hope to their despair
hot sun of the day sweltering grass to a yellow sear
laughter still bellowing pain too much to bear.

but there are deeper wounds where Earth is exposed
where I’d plant my seeds for the Shady Tree to grow,
and I watched it there as it made for clear blue sky
while birds – ever unaware – would pass it swiftly by,
the more none paid mind, the deeper sad would sigh

even my tears didn’t give that tree its longed for life
and the taller it became, the more it wanted to die
even sunlight couldn’t rest upon its widest shade
for shadows of imagination are fruitless in the day
tiny teardrops reflecting what was to prayer lost

now it is time to fell that old and bellowing tree,
the one that gave comfort to ants and then to me,
for no one ever lived there, not as far as I could see,
and so perhaps when I remove that great misery
I will find empty space of the life that I’d left there

(In the playgrounds grassy field,
laughter calling me to the distance,
sun lighting the way for ants who are lost,
leading them to the cooling of the moon.)

Water of Love

Water and Earth give each other form,
without Water, She’d pour dry as sand,
without Earth, She’d rain never to land
without each other, they’d nowhere be

Water is home in cupped hands of Earth,
for She is the chalice from which we live,
while Fire visits only from the safest sight
behind Air’s cool gates does he ever alight

yet that the Four are separate is not so
for Love’s Will binds the above to below,
flowing together: Earth, Water, Air,  Fire
they share the work of that watchful Sire

and Water allows Earth to be Her flow
a supportive sea are richest soils sowed,
the seeds and the roots of great trees,
floating, feed in her denser dark waters

and Water grants Air to stream from afar
currents in the galaxy of the Brightest Star
even informing Him into the mighty clouds
swirling pregnant till swift thunder sounds

finally, Water gives soft sunshowers to Fire
to excite inspiration, from the will to desire,
teaching Him to live gentle upon the Earth
to enchant in kisses all that she has birthed.

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?

Child to the Stars

I would try to be like the stars,
feet ever sadly upon the ground
I’d look up at that bright family,
a child, truly, ever alone was I;
but I told this not to any soul
and still I’d never wish to tell
that I’m still seeking my own
in moonlight desperate darting
to the lighter parts of shadow
who sing me bits of life and poetry

Catching Shadows

what object does not cast a shadow before the sun?
what person does not share their smile with a frown?
we are stretched between the dark and brightest light,
between the left and the right, the end and what begins;
no one can avoid the polarity of our meager perception
and so when I say I love you, my words fall as leaves fall
beneath the wilting autumn sun, shades confusing you
as you try to catch them in your shadow where they land

Beautiful Errors

when I was younger and filled with desire,
I used to think that powerful art could awaken,
that the charms of poet, music and philosopher
could return us to our long lost forgotten souls.
but how mistaken I was about that primal love
for I had not known or returned to my own soul
and so how could I have possibly ever known
that all religion, philosophy, brilliant art and song
are maps of an erroneous creative mind blind
confused and longing for a heavenly blissful life
a life that has been present for us here all along.

Heart Beats with a Trillion Flickering Stars

Upon the day the sun shone brightest, I looked upon the waters of the deep,
I thought perhaps I could gain knowledge of the life of these greatest seas
for I had been fond of such abysmal research before, watching the crowds
passing by or doing their daily chores, heads down, hands unable to hold
unable to give, unable to scold or to capture their dreaming desires bold.

Yet all I could ever see upon the surface of the sea were mirrors of me
fragments fallen to the bottom, souls of me swimming in that dark deep
with a frightening and most sinister gravity hiding down below pulling
my heart beneath to be and live there alone as alone as the earth is alone
she, a living cosmic symphony who muses with all planets, sun, and stars.

Could it be, I wondered, could it be that my drowning is a birth of me?
Could it be, I marveled, that I could dissolve into that heaven born sea?
I will dare the wandering as ocean flows and reaches the shore to leave,
as I, too, breathe wondering to where leads this strangest of journeys
the one where water’s rhythm heart beats with a trillion flickering stars