The Years of Passing
The years of Passing
are a Conversation between my Whisper & Your Silence
Can you Hear me Now, dancing this silent Dance, in between the shadows of Things Gone and things Yet to Come?
This Silent Dance that we both know.
in our Cellular Metabolism. Our DNA. Our Chronic Gelatinous Lovely Cytoplasm. The Dance that Breathes. Air. Sweet Soul. Softness. Light.
Completion.
Seasons Change their clothes like tired Strippers in a Dance Club of Laughing Gods.
And the leaves fall to the eloquent jazz of Wind & Fire.
Mothers say goodbye to children who say goodbye to mothers and fly with all their colors into the Deep.
The years of Passing
are a Conversation between my Whisper & Your Silence. It’s a prayer we keep; a lesson, a promise… to one day be Born Again.
The Place of the Lovers
My love, I have searched for you
in so many shadowed faces
looked through the rags and rich velvet cloth
of so many different places……
that I thought I would die of the thirst of
missing YOU
My love, I have spent past days and nights
in separation, the loneliness of which,
has starved my soul to a perfection of humility
and has taught me the simplicity of a single prayer,
PLEASE COME…..
My love, I have come to such a pure place of emptiness,
with every tear spent,
with every word, silenced
with every thought turned useless….
left with only the magnificence of wanting YOU
Yes, my love……I wait,
in this completion of silence
in this unconditional surrender….
not to beg,
nor to manipulate,
not to speak,
nor to sing,
but to wait…..
with the fullness of the inevitability…..
OF
YOUR
COMING
Symbols of Magnificence
Hello, I am Boy.
Manhood in a Rubber Suit.
A long silent Scream
from my Liver
enters my Heart
and says, have you Eaten Love
for Breakfast; have you drunk
from the Formless Cup of Color?
And I remembered that
the Driver of this Car,
This Vehicle I love,
must be massaged
nourished
cared-for
Before the Exhausting
Typhoon of the
Early-Morning
Sun
I Was Alone
I Was Alone
I counted Three
Minutes Before You Ran
Away with Part of Me
Warriors, They Joined Me
I have this Heart of Gold
Before me, Between me, Inside me
They said it would all Unfold
I Discovered my Flower
My god, my virgin, my light
Tucked into my belly-button cupboard
Glowing like a Raven in the Night
Now I Dance the Tribute to a Million Swans.
My life is over, my time is up
My garden blooms only once
in this Heirloom Silver Cup
the Stars are Singing
inside my Wounded Knees
I’ve already Eaten the Leftovers
Leave this Ancient Haunted House
will You Please …
Read MoreThis Crying Shoe
sacrificed wisdom for love
fell down myriad trap-doors
into acres of sand, oceans of pain
And our wounded head, tight as a trumpet
bows down to desolation and greed and the
name “human” has been wiped from our face
by the lies that our tired eyes and trembling lips
have to pronounce over and over to please those that
please us, but the pleasure is painful and the invoice is
beyond our capability.
So we Stop.
And We Ask.
“Why”.
But why is not enough.
Then, before our Hearts take one last desperate Plunge into the
abyss of Recycled Souls, the furnace of Unforgettable Fire …
the desperate “why” that has no voice, no face and no age
crumbles to a pile of humility, Lost Sand, nameless Ink.
Spoiled words on Crushed Velvet… and we begin
where the arrogance ended.
We begin with the Lost and Missing Friend.
Who, we’re told … has never departed.
But waits.
Pleasantly, dreamily …
Patiently.
For the Aching Emptiness to turn inward on its own
Cracked Window, it’s own Card-House Calamity.
Its own Secret Entrance-way.
Its own Birth Canal.
It’s Krishna blowing on the Sacred Flute.
It’s Jesus booting the Merchants from the Temple.
It’s stars and galaxies all blinking mascara eyes at
your One Lonesome Trembling Soul.
And “I Am Not Alone” emerges as the
preferred Melody by Ascended Doctors
who Wait in this Delivery Room.
This Long Canal.
This Crying Shoe that Never Really Left Home.
Bird of the Moon
There is a feast going on
that we are invited to …
A wondrous forest birthed
from a single tree
A bird singing at the Center of Things;
A bird with a million feathers
of a million colors,
and a million fragrant songs
each sung in the wordless Language of the Heart.
There is no Waiting for this River:
It has been flowing all your days.
There is no Jumping into this river,
you were born and will leave in this
Lovers Arms.
A single Tree and a Silent Sunset
remain embedded in a place where
they Grow Forever Undaunted
A single prayer emerges from
the Lips of Now …
“Fulfill me, because my life is passing by …
“Take me Home, because there is no other
Place to Go …”