Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Under Fallen Leaves

Under Fallen Leaves
Finding the dots under piles
of fallen autumn leaves 
watching in the setting sun   
              as the shadows connecting them 
 tell their story of times           
before the world was born

Consciousness Coalescence

The more we master the physical universe the more prepared we are to transform into higher consciousness.” ~ Buckminster Fuller

    Now this sounds so much like the rape of nature we see everywhere, but I don’t see ‘mastery of the physical universe’ as being the domination of it. But rather in the sense of to understand something very well, with an intimate knowing that borders upon the biblical meaning of ‘to know’ as in to make love to or like a master pianist creating the most splendid of music. 
   Perhaps never distancing ourselves from the world magical, physical as it is, never letting go of the awe and mystery of this universe, because it is there, in the mystery, play and fun, where the doorway to our transformation can be found. 
    To look deeply into smallest of subatomic particle or the grand cosmic scale bigness of it all and still see that wild mystery permeating and dancing in everything; is to open, at least a crack, in that door to wonderment at the core of our soul, stretched ever so thinly around all that is. 
   And when we finally get it and it finally speaks to us with the voice of a lover, will our soul burst as sometimes it feels it may or will it suddenly coalesce into something far beyond anything comprehensible?
   Whatever happens, it is there many are irresistibly and eternally drawn, 
         moment to moment, 
                    life to life...

Monday, August 29, 2016

Morpheus's Vapors

As the wind descended
from the tree top feathers
its fierceness,
slicing through my inner stillness
Awakening murmurings
deep inside me.

Echoes of a past life wildness
I had forgotten
after my expulsion from the womb
and those first neural connections
coalescing mimicked patterns
of word sounds

I found myself
called into a strange
new denseness…

What dark magician had
conjured up this spell
which pulled me into
       this world of frozen forms
which could only move.

They so lacked
     the vaporous solidity
of soul forms
whose manifestation
was not in structure but
lived in the dance
of their morphing.

Living condensation
and sublimation manifestation
and absence worlds
in transition
flowing through each other.

Those are the words
being spoken
with segments
from morphabetic letters
which never repeat
and can never
be written
but only spoken
in a morphing dance

 Memories reminding
that I
like a message in a sealed bottle
thrown carelessly
into a dry sea
am now having to
learn how to dance
my bottle
and tap out my message
on the stones scattered
on the endless
                  empty dryness.

Without eyes to sea
or ears to here
I sit wondering
if there Is anyOne
to the
     rhythms being spoken…