Sunrise Opening

It’s as if Night showers shame upon her Days;
Just as Sea overruns Her bright and sandy shores
in a panic to silent Her secret songs once more,
so too does Night hold what is precious hidden.

So all is silent over that dark land and darker sea
except the cackling rows of the bickering crows
and wandering whispers of death and disease;
hearts anchored by fear, closed in anger seethe.

Still, at morn, the Sun shines and will shine again
but He begins softly illuminating in cooler colors
lights swirling within the moods of purple showers
a gentle portal for the Heart who wishes to open    

to stretch wide along yellow-tinged edge of Days,
His entire world: the good, the bad, is His music,
Love streaming from the radiance of Who He Is
whom Moon mirrors into a Night more fearless.

You, the Cosmos

You are who you are right here and right now. You are already your own potential. And your potential already exists. It is already present swirling in your flesh, your blood, your bones, your spirit, your stars. It just doesn’t appear that way now. The cosmos is already who you are, but it has not come into awareness yet. You are still squinting your eyes, barely opening them due to the salt that stings. For you are swimming in the primal sea of awareness but you haven’t been able to distinguish it in your mind’s dark lies.  You long to hear the voice of gods or angels to tell you how to be something better. You are imagining that you see land and that you can reach it if you play your cards right. You want to be saved from your situation, for you are lonely and do not know what you are supposed to be without someone telling you the way. You think the way is always away from here. But it is precisely here that is the way: where you exactly are.  No need to run, no need to hide or fight. Just open your eye, the one that feels and sees all. Ignore the stinging salt and soon it will fall away. Get to know your currents and the tides that rise and fall. The sun that bathes you in the day and dives into the water by night; the moon that cradles you in the dark and sleeps when morning gets her start. Get to know your dolphins and your whales, the fish of your ocean. The birds of the air fly above, but the water is where they hunger to be. All your universe gathers here round and in the water for the great feast that is your life, both above it, and below it with you in the center learning, evolving, forever expanding, ever being.

Modern Tree

We are as seeds of the giant trees,
and as time grows, so grow do we,
for we are on our way to ether sky,
growing stronger upwards to high;
yet suddenly we cease that blooming,
but continue expanding only wider.  
Year upon year, adding one more layer;
and within that armor, we grow staunch
more impervious to the windy elements
we become hard and cross, unbending;  
now as home both to eagle and to sparrow,
our first purpose a mere cup for our sorrow.

The Shady Tree (Returning to What Was Left Behind)

Climbed a mountain
then I turned around

Stevie Nicks, from “Landslide”

there were no trees in the playground’s grassy field
there were no friends, not on that day nor any other
I could hear the far laughter of the rest of the children
and distant laughter rings hollow and unsubstantial
like cackling branches as mighty frost breaks them

but there are spaces between the blades of grass
I tell you they are there, for I spent the time to ask;
in between the choking pride of green all around
confident they swarm towards the brightest sounds,
as ants below start praying for moon’s cooler songs

I’d watch the ants go to and fro between what is tall
for there are little highways giving transport to all
but no tree was there to give hope to their despair
hot sun of the day sweltering grass to a yellow sear
laughter still bellowing pain too much to bear.

but there are deeper wounds where Earth is exposed
where I’d plant my seeds for the Shady Tree to grow,
and I watched it there as it made for clear blue sky
while birds – ever unaware – would pass it swiftly by,
the more none paid mind, the deeper sad would sigh

even my tears didn’t give that tree its longed for life
and the taller it became, the more it wanted to die
even sunlight couldn’t rest upon its widest shade
for shadows of imagination are fruitless in the day
tiny teardrops reflecting what was to prayer lost

now it is time to fell that old and bellowing tree,
the one that gave comfort to ants and then to me,
for no one ever lived there, not as far as I could see,
and so perhaps when I remove that great misery
I will find empty space of the life that I’d left there

(In the playgrounds grassy field,
laughter calling me to the distance,
sun lighting the way for ants who are lost,
leading them to the cooling of the moon.)