It is Light

It is light. She knew not what she would write. Sitting down. She began to let life speak for itself. It is the light guiding her from birth up to this moment, the only point worth making. The freedom is light guiding he who finds there is no meaning and that he can finally go and be no one. It is light in the darkest room beneath two thin sheets where there lie a body cold, shivering, surrounded by loved ones under one roof and those outside that sleep tenderly in the night, it is light under two eye lids shut that touch the cold and the warmth both, truly, and know the second can never end; not even death has that much power. It is light that leads her light steps, heavy hurt real, honoring heart, continuing to follow the energy of soul, a path she has committed to in full. It is light, the acknowledgement of weakness. It is light, a child’s cry for her mother at night, part of each’s path. This is the mortal life beside the immortal evolution. All that hear, listen for and honor the light know these sounds well. Light does have a sound. It can be a big seashell up to your ear whooshing openness, widening eyes to cascading memories of child life by the sea. Taken away, the sound lingers still, though the body might sway, the mind, consider. It is inside of every one of us. Certainly. Certainty. Constant. The shell is just one more reminder. There is no such thing as “for no good reason” when you honor the light. It is light, not the answer, after all; there is only your true path and the off road. What is reason, after all? It is not something that guides. It is something we use. It is light shining through the crackled ground illuminating the imbalance in the soles of my feet; someplace my mind has led me to. I wouldn’t define it by labeling it good or bad. Perhaps, that is a start. Light has a warm feel, likewise, in the coldest moments. Truth is the closest word I know to describe the light I know little of, yet feel. It is light pulsing, radiating through the chambers of my chest, touching this arrhythmic heart. It is light eroding the mind’s need to define signals. It is light that disproves anything tangible, ideological, reasonable, and/or realizable as something worthy of consideration. Anything chased after is illusion, a cloaked shadow of false promises. One must only follow the light. Pursuits in line with truth naturally emerge; some will bear fruit. Things obtained along the path of light are not successes. Things lost along the path of light do not signify failure. It is light, ironically that is the only signal. We are not to assess the worthiness of our pursuits. We are not to define our lives, our thoughts, or our brethren. We are to connect to the light that is everywhere, by letting light in, and most importantly, by honoring the light inborn. It is light, the voice of our souls, to be followed. It is our duty to let the light from a higher truth shine brightest on this mortal plane.

Conviction

Lie two strangers

In a bed together

What led them to this chamber?

She who made the bed for he

Who bought her dinner

Deep down under

Left alone to wonder

When will the winter end?

When will a break of sunlight bend me back to new beginnings and will you join me?

When will you seem familiar?

When will you be my supportive pillar?

I know you ask of me the same,

Left alone to wonder

When will this winter end?

When will the harsh, cold wind blow favor on us both?

Stranger things have happened dear friend, old lover

Two lonesome broken faces, freshly fallen snow falls upon

Risen sun looks upon, the frozen heat between us earthly friction

I will wish upon our star, the one WE share

Still not understanding, but knowing you care, as I

To keep intact this special connection between us, silent is the music of our two souls together

Separate, from these noisy worlds of difference we both have fed

I will wish upon our star and let the trivial starve

I choose to live here with you

I choose to grow old with you

In this current state, we find ourselves

I trust that it is fate

I trust we are not too late.

A Thanksgiving Poem

Thank you Brother Wind,
Blowing sins, far away
Thank you Mother Earth,
Giving shelter, to everyone
Thank you Sunshine,
Keeping daughters warm long after summer's gone
Thank you Nightfall,
Boys come home, the war is over
Every year,
Every year, you reappear
Run through the forest
Barefoot, bleeding hearts out into open arms
The flag firmly in the ground, waives nicely
Welcoming everyone that gathers round-
It comes with the territory
This place still a mystery
Still full of surprises, disguises,
Jesters and wises,
A place where cries out loud of all kinds are allowed
A place where soft, little lullabies can soothe a crowd
And erase fakeness
Saying bye bye to the fraud in us all
Returning us all to grace after the fall
For the higher stuff we ought to laud
We rally, applaud
United
Hailing
"Twenty four seven
Earthen is heaven
Authentically picking up the pieces
Giving lives longer leases
We live more,"
Delivering us from the yearlong need to deceive
Interweaving and succeeding at new, truer hellos
The tone, a modest bellow
We, the proud are mellow
And "We eat together, today
Move together, in the same way
The message is clearly on display,"
Appreciation,
Thanks,
Gratitude and romance
In the good times we share,
In the bad times we will care for one another,
God made us this way today, amen.

Nature Observes

He walks along the pathway

In a thoughtful way

As if to say

So what it’s only rain—

The buds of bare tree tips

Refrain from growth and coolly quip

How light the

Moisture drip—

Hardened ground

Absorbs the pound

Without so much as a peep,

Noting consistency in sound

All around

Coming from the streets,

Peppered with ice, snow and sleet

Soft and weathered by the wayward sheets—

Rain sleekly freezes over

Begins to cover

In a second’s time, an earlier sentiment

Rebirthing trust in the name

We give to the end of every year

Elemental observance erasing fear

Believing in the old familiar signs

As they appear.

The Beating Heart of Here

This is a story
In no hurry
See like allegory
World making meaning
Keep believing
In the feelings as they scurry
To the bee bop skit scattering
Sound
Life all around
Running rain drops through
Suspension
Of light
Still frames' bright
Smiles, not in a whiles

Layaway, for the dreary days

Undisguised

Time how it flies
Sights, these snippets
Delight, in every tidbit

Soft, in every sense of singing

Each and every

Happy, sad

Somber, glad song

As each and every one comes along

As each and every one does belong

As all are allowed to flow

Without defining the knowing inside

Of something deeper within resting

Still, that cannot be described

Where truth cannot hide, forever

Within the peaks and valleys of different frequencies

Embedded in the core, always something more

Bringing back stranded versions to shore

Without fail,

Right way breath set sail for the next

Inhale, there are things we do control

The evolution of our souls

Exhale, the world is a tossup

That never lets up
Don't let the teardrops, sneer stopping jeers, reappearing fears
Here, hold you hostage

Rather,
Clap to the energy

Allow for synergy
Open the cage up
Each and every one

Emotion
Feel Her light rays
Of energy
Lift you up in levity
So that you are free, do not become what you see
For yours is a story
In no hurry
Reads like allegory
Grounded by the sights and sounds of all around
Bound to nothing
It is glory,

The beating heart of here.

 

 

 

 

 

Closer to the Truth

His pride is gone
His eyes are dry,
Who is this guy
And does he come or go along
Unconscious of his leaving?
What tricks are up his sleeve?
Does he believe or self deceive?
The sentiment of bereavement
Brought his heart into the present
For all along his mind hath been repentant
For the past part of him slithering off a serpent, never enough
Backdrop to a third eye now fully open-
All the while
Not until now, without guile
Recoiling in horror
Taking cover
In the unapologetic truth
Of ruthless, couth emerging energy
Of this manly stand
That decides
And weighs decisions
Without fearing the future patchwork incisions
Without needling with suspicion his own indecision-
Rather, nurtures with patience
Taking down the gates that fence in the self pressuring with self prophesizing demands
No longer holding onto former plans
And pipe dreams
That like jail bait weights have shackled
Not allowing for new free form to pick up steam,
A side narrative slowly molding into
Once upon a time a charming lad
A bad caricature for the outside world
To see
And make a mockery of
Someone less than a man sitting behind bars
He himself locked up by the self deceit of scars
Running through error with an empty heart,
With an unfastened, frenzied mind, no longer
For here stands a man
That does not fabricate hope
Nor falsify
That does not laugh at life's greatest treasure
From the loitered dust sparsely glittered with childish notion
That has kept him holding onto
Historically repetitive antics
Desperately frantic
Follow up
Self deprecation
Out of fashion,
Here stands a man, now in season
Picking up the pieces, seeing
Glittering his life
Feeling the
Magic in his soul.

Muscle

I lead with my heart,
The writer inside of me
No longer asks, “Is this art?”
I lead with my heart,
The lover inside of me
No longer looks for the start,
Passion is the blood flow
That does not question—
I lead with my heart,
Submit to the transmission of truth, the only judge
I welcome this guidance,
Like those that lead with their hearts!
My heroes
Inspire
Inspiration from within comes on as
The secretion of inessential urges
My heart to swell, beating louder
Slowly overcoming a heavy head used to speaking first—
My mind listens, all ears and no fear
Chambered muscle unshackling from the wear and tear of weighty overthought,
Together strengthening aura, softening
Surrounding the resounding sound of clear being inside of me now,
A truthful coo,
“This is me and
I Iove you for you.”