Saturday

03282015



today…
drifting in a 
lightness of being.

where have i been?
what has taken me away?

it does not matter.

my footsteps are swift. 
my gait? unimpaired. 

i am at the mercy of the breeze
and the deep blue sky.
they lift me.

where will they carry me?

time has passed.

the sun has risen… and set.
the moon has waxed… and waned.

the world has changed… as have i.

this is a new life.
this is today.

Tuesday

03172015

after the rain...

i awaken to a golden stream of consciousness
flowing from a marbled horizon,
a gilded mist that shrouds me
inside its visibility.

already, the daffodils have blossomed
like a constellation of yellow stars
shimmering in an emerald sky.

morning falls.

soon, the bees 
will begin their song.

Saturday

03142015



what if...? what if the wind were to blow me away?

outside, the sky is blue and shattered with clouds. a mild gust is blowing itself into every crevice of nature. i go outside. i sit with the wind and allow it to invade my space. i am, after all, invading the spaces it has elected to inhabit. 

something strokes my awareness. 

i have abandoned the perfectionist. somewhere, i have left her behind. i have disowned that person who expected everything to be just perfect... just right. maybe it was a flaw to be a perfectionist. maybe, on the other hand, it is a flaw to disown a part of oneself. wherever the flaw, i do not discard it. i embrace it. 

i envelope the flaw.
i envelope the crease.
i envelope the blur.

in so doing, i reintegrate what i disowned.

today, i hear everything. i see in bold color. i smell the blend of freshly scratched ink on paper. i feel the exhausted stiffness in my fingers as i pore over this page. i taste, in the pit of my throat, the hunger for more experience and more word and more expression. and, i know that i am just where i need… just where i want… to be. 

it feels good to know this.

Sunday

02222015

she said,
another odd dream.
i can’t recall the details,
but i do remember waking up feeling 
agitated, preoccupied, disturbed.

i said,
as you talk about it now,
what disturbs you?

she said,
she was in the dream.

she?

yes.
the one whose imprint
i wish to erase.

i said,
who is she?
does she have a name?

she said,
i can’t name her.

you won’t…?

i won’t… name her.
i won’t give her that.

i said,
is that a rejection of ‘her’,
or a rejection of yourself?

what do you mean?

what about ‘her’ evokes
something in ‘you’?

you insinuate that i’m like her,
she said.
i’m not! i won’t be! i hate her!

i said,
yet maybe it is that part of her
you deny that conjures
a truth in you that you disown.

she said,
that’s absurd!

i said,
maybe so.
and maybe, alternately,
the hour for shining a light
on that shadow has arrived.

she said,
what would compel me to do that?

i said,
you speak of compulsion, though
there is also the matter of choice:

you can confront your shadow,
dialogue, and make peace.

or

you can allow ‘her’ to remain
hidden from your view,
separated from your awareness as
she festers inside you,

while you encounter the world
like an ocean without salt,
like an eagle without wings,
like a fire without oxygen.