The Path

Continue on your journey
kindred spirit, as you must,
travel the wandering scenic route,
venture into the curious corners,
dare the dark fated detours,
take the longest, intrepid treks
over mountains and coombs,
parched desert and rainforest,
see the sunrise above the clouds,
stray into ineffable mysteries,
waver at the chasm's edge,
hear the whispers in the wind,
the roar upon the seashore,
like voices of wondrous wisdom
calling to the relenting heart,
for that is your own soul's path
to the ever-present Origin,

Seasons of the Soul

Nature, the fount of life, has its seasons,

winter, spring, summer, autumn.

So it is with the seasons of the soul,

now asleep, now awakening,

now blossoming, now bearing fruit ...

all appearing in their allotted time.

Oneness holds them all equally,

these dreamtime apparitions,

these cycles of life and death,

the sun-kissed leaf, the frostbit flower,

the suffering child, the grief-stricken heart,

the praying mantis devouring her mate,

should one ever dare to aver

any one would be without the other.

Thus sleep peacefully this dark night,

knowing it births the newborn dawn.

Words to awaken by

Is it possible that mere words,
but ideas that bestir the spirit,
can transcend inherent limits,
and somehow come to intend
the numinous wonder of nature —
despite what is said, or not said,
about the ineffability of the Tao.
Could it also be that perchance,
upon some mystical occasions,
a unexpected exception is made,
and out of some wordless depths
of fertile silence and stillness, 
a wormlike sentence is born,
and crawls across the page,
voraciously devouring the leaf,
whereupon it spins a lyrical cocoon,
emerging after a cryptic spell,
as if by divine grace or magic,
as an intricately transfigured
metamorphosed metaphor ...
an utterance taking wing,
that in a flight of imagining,
like Eros bewitched by Logos,
sings words to awaken by.

Metamorphosis

 

We are dreamlike, entranced yet sleepless 

while the gods slumber, metamorphosing 

within our luminous cocoons, quiescent 

though not unmoved. Now discontent 

as net-veiled chrysalides of cyberspace, 

stirred by the warm awakening of desire, 

we await the furtive kiss of alchemy 

to render the timeless mystery entire. 

Once unfurling, faltering, fledgeless nymphs, 

now digital-dancers, imago-gypsies, 

flirting in the play of light and shadow, 

tapping worded wings upon the electron screen. 

Suppose out of instinct or innocence we seek 

soulmates in these galleries of hieroglyph and glass, 

where the exquisite longings and sufferings of love 

are laid bare in transfigured exhibition of our hearts, 

we who crave the secrets of serendipitous beauty, 

as elusive as the avatars of our dreams.

Deliverance

As I sat in that cathedral of life and death,
how many lives were born and lost
within the rooms of its labyrinth halls?
And where was god watching from?
As I gazed into the dazzling geometry
of its crystalline ceiling, did I see
the myriad crosses of Flanders repeated
there? During the countless hours
I waited, I tried in vain to count them,
until I could not bear them any more.
Strange, how one skin-cloaked skeleton
could radiate such beauty and light,
while yours, that shell of your being,
housed only darkness and despair.
And so I retrieved those fading photos
to remember your lost beauty and light,
to mask the pain and fear in your eyes.
And yet they too became unbearable,
as I sat helplessly by your side,
while some irrevocable karmic will
pulled your hand from mine. I tried
my love to read the failing words
upon your lips, believe me I tried,
but they also became too hard to bear.
And where was god listening from?
While everywhere around us, others
shared our grief, the nurses of our ward
went about their gracious business,
as they warded over us. So I borrowed
their dauntless spirit, as they bravely bore
the infinite weight of our untold tears.
And I prayed that perhaps deliverance
might find a way into the darkest depths
of your sleeping soul, and prayed somehow,
somewhere, an angel was waiting to do
what I could bear to do no longer …
and that some god was waiting too.

Time sleeps

Time sleeps while eternity stirs,
Songbirds compose morning overtures,
Blossoms sent on sweet-scented zephyrs
Fall into the dreams of two lovers.

Our lovers awaken, now his, now hers,
Beneath the covers his hand ventures,
A sleepy pretender, she demurs,
Then meekly surrenders to his murmurs.

And thus aroused, lust now ensures
A flux of pheromones from flesh and furs,
Endearments to begin, then foreplay blurs
Into a feast of sensation and fervent purrs.

One wonders how the heart endures
The outer limits of love's measures,
Climaxing in life’s exquisite pleasures,
While time sleeps and eternity stirs.

Let me dream of you

Let me dream of you when the light
of youth shone through your eyes,
not flickering with fear; when time
was our endless ocean to sail upon,
and not some empty bedside cup.
Let me dream of you when a smile
of joy played across your face,
and not a death-shadowed grimace;
when your mind was free to wander,
and not captive in a prison of pain.
Let me dream of you as your child
of memory, filled with your hope,
favored with your faith, and not
as this man with a grief-filled heart,
weeping for you as you did for me.
Let me dream of you as the gentle
spirit now embodied in my children,
their spirits now graced by yours,
your spirit now alive in their eyes,
not this spectre that haunts my sleep.
Let me dream of you as my redeemer,
my friend, my fellow dreamer, my giver
of life and love, never denied or clouded
by doubt, not a bated body and soul
weakened by the tyranny of despair.
Let me dream of you as you would wish,
crowned with dignity, so passionately
yourself, yet likewise devoted to those
you loved; just a woman I suppose
you thought, not gone, not forgot.
So let us just say goodnight my love,
sleep well ... I'll see you in my dreams.