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...

Fingers of the Unspeakable

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

Somewhere

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

                              dancing.

 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

listening

to the

     rhythms being spoken…