Serpentine Men

The fortune of the gods brave the storms and reign 

In the flood of magic scribe told;

The symphony of riots shout the believers of just cause

Relinquished the fear of being portrayed as lonesome in the movement towards change

Of hearts can only be known through intimacy, but of hearts can be brave in symphony

The chest of the worthy open to claim the treasure of lore and privilege

Decency do, decency do not

What matters is the empire that clashes with right 

Serpentine men shall wither in chains.

You Take Me

Your mighty grasp gripped my tiny hand

pulled me from the storm into warmth where flames flickered forms

dancing shadows played like restless children on the walls

hand in hand a peaceful language spoke

wisps of contemplation bent my brow

and I rose in an exhalation of a life work

the vulnerability of my trembling hand shook

and you strengthened me with vision 

and I could see you in my fear beckoning

come to me, unto me, come to me, come

The ocean curled beneath 

renewing my tears with a salty mist

the sunlight lifted my drooping head 

bowed in prayer deep and faithful

a mysterious cloak of unknown province draped my shoulders

underneath the newness of penetrating quiet a butterfly lifted

and as delicate as these wings may be 

the earth's gravity had no bearing 

though on many things gravity did weigh, but not unto me.

The Visitors

The mist is absorbed into my lungs
My flesh burns
My forehead and mouth tingle
"They are back," I realize

They float gracefully about me
Smoothly transitioning in and out of forms
In and out of dimensions peaking into this one
They surround me, swirling about me
I'm in the center of a wildly mystical merry-go-round
They visit as smoky figures here and there
"Why are you here?" I ask, "What do you want?"

They do nothing but encircle me
Make their presence known
They are silent
No message to share
No request
They simply peer into this world and leave

Sometimes I wonder if they enter through my atrium
And exit through my arteries
My heart feels sensations of deep but beautiful grief
The kind of grief an artist feels when they are creating a transcendental piece
Emphatically makes love to the transitory where fall shall dethrone trees and winter shall weep
The kind of grief when the gentle brush of life sweeps into my most despairing places and cleanses my heartache
The kind of grief when saying goodbye to a great love wakes me into the invigoration of absolute presence
Because there is no leaving someone who was never there
And the earth trembles with radiance and an aliveness that creeps into my every pore

They tune me into their world
"I see you," I whisper
I feel like you want something from me, so I offer you tea
Am I a poor listener
Am I dense
All these years visitors for reasons unknown
Perhaps I am too complicated to understand the tradition
A visitor is always welcomed and not to be questioned
I should be grateful for their stay.

Leaving the Unleaveable

Leaving the unleaveable
the tears dropped from the chin
and the earth harvested from sky
a fortune of grief

and the grief wept torrents
and the sky bereft of defeat
clumsily ranked the humans
as the chief operator of weather

and, whether it is true is nonetheless,
true,
can the sun shine sunshine? Or,
does the silly labrador retriever
receiver?

Can this phone call the mystery?
Does the mystery answer the calls?

Dear God, I'm texting you.

The Knight and the Sword

Is the knight one who defends the soul or the ego of the queen?
Does a great knight bow in loyalty to integrity or to greed?
Ultimately a great knight is a willful servant to good.
What is good unleashes powers of equality and justice rarely seen.
A sword must be straight to serve its greater purpose.

When the queen chants, "Off with their heads!"
She does intend, "Off with my head, for it has thwarted my majesty and my crown has grown small in comparison."

"Off with my head and the heart shall rule instead!"
For one heart beats to the rhythm of the magistrates, lords, serfs and the paupers
And the beat gets thicker
And the rule gets mightier
And the people know who is in control
There is no division

Does the knight protect ego or soul?
A great knight speaks with Prometheus.
A sorrowful knight protects the likes of Epimetheus.
Wisdom and foresight say, "Only good can come of this."
What makes great food are the ingredients.

What is the Matter?

When my spirit was dimmed by light

My spirit was seen best at night, or was that a firefly?

In the darkness he whispered in my deaf ear, “What shall you be without me?”

I ask of god to please remember me

The angel warned, "As you look in the mirror you will only see the past”

So, I trashed the mirror

The earth burns under my dead weight

No wind churns the stillness to life

No desire fuels a need to grow for the “I” has grown

God, please remember me

What I am…

Tempt me god, I dare you

I have lost everything that mattered

But you will tear the letters from my hand and recycle everything that matters

Because matter is what is the matter

And my madder is maddeningly high

Where did I go? Where did you go?

You are the only one that seems to know

You refuse to reduce yourself to this hide and seek game

You removed your teat from my mouth and I wail

You are weaning me from fallacy

No, no you are not

You are not my ecstasy

You are not my gain

Nor limited in my love, nor my faith

You are not anything that matters because matter is what is the matter

I sit here quietly, and finally I ask,

“What shall I be with you?"

No matter.

Andrea Gibson

"A doctor once told me I feel too much

I said, 'So does God'

That's why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon"

"The Gate" by Marie Howe

All Things Emanate Power

Do not be so foolish to think

there is something to control

power does not grasp, plead, nor argue

the sky does not convince day of night

heaven is and heaven knows

the mastery of self sits here alone

in the truest form born from majesty radiates

a trembling design from infancy

who grows from dignity unfettered and sublime

the noblest act is to not have an act

an artist does not control the brush, he regulates his own gestures

a leader does not control her followers, her self-discipline commands respect

all things emanate from the creator
be centered on that one.

Your Genesis

No human being has accosted the breeze. The walls of a chamber teach one what is free. Do not be seduced to wander the halls of deception for answers, for no answer is born from distrust. Realize the bounty of your own genesis. Be carried by the breeze. Listen to that magical sound-that one that carries you.

I Come to You Empty

I come to you empty

Did I think that I was no longer worthy?

Has this broken spirit cursed you?

The beacon of innocence cracked from the weight of the dark majority

Has faded from view

I once came to you out of longing

I once came to you in need

I once came to you for healing

Now, no pleasure nor sorrow succeed

The beacon no longer a focal

For the temptation for light does flee

In the presence of greater and greater humility,
I now concede; I see you in everything.

The Inner Landscape of Beauty-John O'Donohue On Being with Krista Tippett

http://www.onbeing.org/program/inner-landscape-beauty/203

Cheers to the late and great John O'Donohue.

Walk with me to the center of the clock where time stands still and the world rotates around us. There is a kindness in suspending the past and future. We revolt against the antagonism of the unknown and revel in the extraordinary sensation of being-drawing forth our presence not from earlier nor later, rather, from the unmistakable mystery of the soul.

Prayer for Your Enemy

My heart.  I ask that I learn how to pray for my enemy.  Send me words of redemption.

May I learn to respect your humanity when confronted with pain.  Let my heart break.  Allow my heart's contents to empty into rivers that carry them away. May these tender scars remind me of the contours of the sacred. What is sacred?  What is sacred is that I may heal-that my innocence remains uncorrupted when violated. Our innocence does not have to die but strengthen discernment.

Darkness earns its rewards through deception. The psychologically aimless is vulnerable to the contagions of disease and betrayal.  May I persistently turn my attention towards my wholeness and dwell in the revelation of truth. That which is true never harms in retaliation. That which is true is merciful. That which is true has no reason to hide or to feel shameful. That which is true reveals the sinews of human folly weaving humanity together into an evolutionary body. What is true is what is in you is in me, too.  To err is to assume sanctimonious distinctions.

Remove this rage, this disbelief. May the disquiet awaken unexpected forces of good. May this ache to repair the other find its authentic possession; and, that is the ache to restore my soul. For all aspects of life must be purged from the disciple in order to deepen their wisdom.

May I direct my attention with penetrating intelligence towards the liberatory genius of transcendent thought.  Uplift me from the despairs and disrepairs of the past.  May the wings of possibility beat fervently, raising me into the realms of mystical perception-where the roadways of our lives cross, where the fertile farmlands run snuggly into each other like puzzle pieces, and where the picture broadens into a life story.  Profundity eclipses these tiny fractures in time, where the presence of the absolute arises bubbling into the ever-present "a-ha" of my true identity. With every breath another false attachment exhales my body. This truth is what breathes me; this truth is what breathes you.

May this quiet moment of forgiveness liberate us both. I release you again and again and again.  I release you.  When I say, "thank you" these words sincerely brush my lips, for I have learned that I am still capable of wanting to return harm unto another-that I can lose myself in the pain-and that the darkness can eclipse my light. You have redirected me to my light in some strange way.

Blessed be your beautiful life.