Lost Feather ~ Crystal Silence

I was a Lost Feather,
a Man Without Cause.
Looking for Identity, Reason, Homeland, Season.

There is a Journey somewhere:

a Calling, a Knowing, a Home-coming.

A Crystallizing in Silence.

Life proceeds along “attractively”,
for most that we know.  They have a car,
and a house, and a small piece of snow.
They are “busy”, these birds are busy.
These people are never seen talking to
a flower on a street-corner, or looking
into the Divine Eyes of a a baby
in a supermarket crowd.

They have points and merit-awards
and plots reserved in the cemetery,
“right by Mom & Dad”, and they have
sugar on their corn-flakes and Organic
Pet-Food for their Geriatric Cats.

I have never been “busy”.

I have avoided and deconstructed
the word, “busy”.   I don’t listen to
busy signals or go to business meetings.

We are busy avoiding ourselves,
being distracted into the world of nothingness
that we think is “somethingness”.

We are the collectors of trash – the material
garbage of the world; we are the undisputed
kings of mountains of Nothingness, which we
endlessly worship as “somethingness”.

We are Lost Feathers in a Big Storm.

We are Lost Feathers clinging to Dust
that we think is “somethingness”.

We are headed towards the Hot Fire
that burns Lost Feathers
and all their Precious Dust
into ashes of an
infinitesimally fine nature.

The Big Storm and the Hot Fire
dance & play every day.
They love the sound of Feathers
going, “snap, crackle, & pop”.

This is the Opera of Life & Death.
And everything in between.

This is the Sky of Blue,
the Swing of Breath,
the Color of the Canyon Green.

The Crystal Song of Silence,
and the Moments In Between.

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Naked Heart

We’re not concerned
with your Royalty
Your Loyalty
or your Fashion.

We don’t care
who you know
where you go
or what you’ve been:
in Someone Else’s Movie
or your own Private Dream

the Place of Innocence
lies beneath the Clothing of Deceit
you’re so afraid of your Naked Heart
that you Suffocate
in the Afternoon Heat

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The Hand That Feeds Us All

Fitting in
something small
inside the Hand
that feeds us All

around the Garden
hidden stones harden
forming a Secret Wall

fountains of Flowers
forsaking the Hours
Span the Distance
between You and Eye

The knowing in-between pillars of uncertainty
pulses with rhythm of life sustained beyond
the arbitrary kingdoms of despair, loss, mortality, passage

In the Desert
a silent flower blooms,
a prayer in Quiet Rooms
a Star in the sky where Midnight Looms

Fitting in something Small,
inside the Hand
that Feeds us All …

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“It’s All A Movie… “

I will tell you why I don’t go to movies, but you will think I am insane. Or you will take it personally. Or you will assume there is an audience in the clouds, judging your every thought.

So, shut up and listen.

All of life is a Movie. And all is exquisite. It’s full of Good Actors, Bad Actors, Actors who are Bad at acting Good, and those who are Good at acting Bad. And the stage is amazing. It is never the same for two days, two hours, or two moments. The light is superb, dramatic, unpredictable. Weather comes and goes. Flowers bloom in cracks where no one would imagine; dying trees cling to stormy cliffs above heaving oceans unnamed.

Lives begin and end, love comes and goes; the Spirit, the Sacred, the Essence of Life, inhabits the eyes, the voice, the song… then, like a quiet deer in the woods: gone. Never to return. Never to play at another theater… for 8 consecutive weeks or two consecutive seconds.

This is NOT a movie, yet, this is the most incredible movie.

And you ask me to sit in a theater, and look at past light projected on a screen – light that only mimics life? You ask me to spend ten dollars and two hours of irretrievable time?

And you ask me to look at actors – uncertain of who they are themselves – trying desperately to play a character dreamed up by someone’s overactive imagination?

So, you ask me to meditate on layers of façade, meticulously placed to trick my perceptions, to manipulate my emotions, to dull my own sensitivity and creativity … so that, for a very short time, in my unbelievably boring life, I can lose myself in a non-existent “hero’s life” with exploding cars, talking animals, and cozy, suburban romance in a house I could never afford?

And, all this fantasy and expense, and overwrought lighting effects, to bring to life someone else’s arbitrary myth, where their value system, their emotions, their sexuality, their world view, are superimposed – obliterating my worthless, mundane, empty, boring one — all for ten dollars and two hours of my irrevocable time?

Hmmm.

Tonight, I watched the only sunset that will ever occur on the only Monday, April 26th 2010 that will ever occur, and saw soft seagulls crying and smelled fragile cedars breathing, and walked silent footsteps through a sacred old forest, smiling and greeting the sweet and amazing human beings who passed me by. I may never see them again, but I saw them tonight.

This is my “movie” and this is my life.

It is the sweetest production ever made, and it only shows once.

The acting, the cinematography, the plot, the lighting, the location, the props … are totally amazing.

And … it’s free.

(but very, very expensive …)

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You & I

I & You
We see Me Through
We build Skies of Blue
I & Me & You

You & Me
We see what we See
We Be, We Three
I & You & Me

You, Me & I
We Journey Thru the sky
We Try & Die & Fly
You & Me & I

I & You & Me & Us
Journey along on this Magic Bus
Don’t make much of a Nasty Fuss
I & You & Me & Us

You and I
Continue to Cry
Tears of Joy in One Eye
You & I
You & I

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