Radiant Being of Light
Radiant being of light,
vortex of love,
alchemist supreme,
magnifier of prayer,
mirror of the soul,
tribal fire,
the one I dream about
and the one who wakes me from the dream,
why the dervish spins
and the earth.
Teacher, teaching, and the taught,
first breath,
last breath,
what lovers look for in each other
but rarely find,
center around which everything revolves,
endless night of love
and the aching of a moon-howling heart
that does not want
the morning to come.
My Poems Are Like a Persian Rug
My poems are like a Persian rug,
in each there is a flaw,
a word, a phrase, a rhythm off,
an over reaching metaphor.
So close they are to what I feel,
but close is all they are,
like wooden spokes are to the wheel,
like children wishing on a star.
stopped on a dime
there is some endless and lost sun
shining in ecstasy, shining forever
there through your eyes
i have noticed this fragrant abode,
this mountain of still magic
this place standing taller than time
through one who has come undone
standing still, my swing has stopped
motionless screaming in delight
of things known thru all ages
of things felt thru all time
of you who i know now
and will always love
i am stopped on a dime
i am suspended in a place
of living time
They say Inner Peace is free of charge …
There are some things in life I learned on my own.
Most have to do with organic bodily processes. The reptilian brain responses to external stimuli. “Built-in” stuff. Innate stuff. Fear, hunger, survival programs. Turning grunts and groans into meaningful – or in some cases, meaningless – dialogue.
With regard to growth, maturity, propelling ones self ahead in life, communication, livelihood, relationships, ownership… all this had to be learned. The learning process was as prone to fault as the marriage between teacher and student. Many questionable teachers, often a reluctant student. Many trials and tests. Many cyclical loops of learning new ways to break things, versus old ways to fix things. And the School of Life goes on.
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