Word Keepers

 They are everywhere.

They sit in piles on my bureau,

stacks on end tables and desktops.

They stand in rows on shelves and are silent,

each holding its own unique secrets.

I can hear their silent words,

Feel their thoughts pushing against their covers.

They wait and are patient, 

a wealth of knowledge standing by.

Always steady in their thoughts, never changing their minds,

dependable and steadfast,

reliable and faithful.

I feel their presence surround me,

Taste their flavor,

and am overwhelmed by their potential.

They hold the key to so much,

so much just waiting on the shelves, desktops and end tables,

enriching my space with their presence,

waiting for me to open their covers and

Set their words free.

Friday Afternoon Sit

As I sit in darkness, a glimmer of light shines around the dark edges of my closed eyes,

growing until my field of vision is full of blinding white light.

It is here that hope and love float freely on waves of peace and

Krishna’s voice sings along with the song of my heart.

He flushes away the darkness and frees me from the pain it carries.

I feel sorry for the darkness.  It lacks the power to forget itself.

Do I have that power?

I continue to sit and wait for an answer.

As I wait, silence pervades the shrine room and my heart.

The others in the room disappear when I close my eyes,

their energy lost in the space between the cushions.

I feel neither their presence nor their absence,

until my eyes open and their collective energy floods over me intruding on my silence and peace.

The bell rings, three times and the session ends.

I must put away thoughts, cut off fear or bliss, end the waiting and

Reluctantly resume a presence in this material world.

A world of light, dark, hope, despair

love, loss, hate, and peace.

Silent sitting can isolate or open my heart.

The choice is mine to make.

A choice that can be good or evil,

warm or cold,

lasting or fleeting but really,

is there a difference?

Here and now or there and then?

The break is over and the sitting resumes.

Odd thoughts and feelings float out of the deep recesses of my mind

in the silence of the shrine room.

There are thoughts that come and go.

Some are gentle and kind,

others judgmental and cruel.

Shadows from the past sneak in disturbing my peace,

rekindling painful times.

I let them stay,

feel their pain and then let them pass.

They are not forgotten or forgiven but allowed to slip by, dismissed from my life.

Do the others I sit with feel my pain or know my thoughts?

Is my pain theirs too?

Are we really all the same?

But what if we believe in different things?

I, in my Lord Krishna,

they in themselves.

Their breath guides their thoughts.

His breath guides mine.

This retreat is a place of silence and peace.

A place to reflect on everything or nothing.

Their nothing is my everything.

My everything is none of their concern because to them, it’s not real.

So, what is real?

My thoughts, their nothingness, my love, their indifference,

My self their no self?

I don’t know…

I’m tired now.

I’ll start over later,

when the bell rings again.

 

Cut Glass

It came in the night.

Not silent like time,

but with a taping and clicking.

All night I heard it.

I knew they didn’t know.

They were already asleep.

Warm sleep deep down in silent winter sleep.

When morning came and the sun caressed them

they sparkled like cut glass in their coating of ice.

They didn’t know that someone had dressed them while they slept.

I was the only witness to the magic, this winter magic.

I must remember to tell them in the spring when their sap flows again

and their buds unfurl.

I wonder if they’ll believe me.

Winter trees

 

Stunned

 He lays silently in the snow

Tiny heart pounding, feathers rumpled,

eyes blinking, waiting for his head to clear.

My existence here, here in my space with its clear reflecting glass sometimes brings pain and suffering to the very creatures I want to help.

But he who lays silently in the snow doesn’t judge me.

He is innocent and unaware of the glass that stunned him.

So I give him space, wait a while and when next I look, my heart cheers to find him gone.

Flown away, back to his world of blue sky and white snow.

His glass-less world of silence and cold.

A world that I, despite my so-called intelligence and desire to help,

Could never recreate.

The Ballet of Life

The ballet of life is

a play of light and shadow.

Where bodies move and sweep emotions into being.

Their interplay of physical and emotional strength portrays a

man and woman connected in dance as in life and love.

Two bodies move as one in response to

the primordial rhythm of existence.

Two become one in spirit and flesh.

Hands and hearts glide together

joining the masculine and feminine in an endless dance of love and power.

He shares his with her and she hers with him in a

dance that becomes a battle of love, a flow of exquisite pain and destroying joy.

Two lovers who love for love’s sake alone,

 flow together in the dance of eternity,

believing in the union of man, woman and music

become one together in the ballet of life.

Home Together

I hear cries in the darkness of the night.

They are sounds from my soul draped in velvet.

I hear songs sung in whispers

floating between the night trees as

silent, invisible swirls of chi

mingle with my thoughts and

illuminate my soul.

I lie down on the mossy forest floor and

feel myself seep into the earth to

become one with the trees and starry night sky.

All separation dissolves and everything exists together

at this singular point in time and space.

The forest and I have become one in spirit and soul,

both human and Divine.

We are all home together at last,

never to be alone again.

 

To Be

There is a thickness to humanity.

A dense and heavy layer.

A disguise, a cover, an excuse.

A veil of mystery waiting to be

Lifted, awakened, removed.

There is so much, so much in each one,

So deep, so vast, so hidden.

But there are those moments,

Moments of clarity, moments of knowing,

Moments of awareness for even the

Most unaware.

The richness that hides beneath

Comes to the surface, unbidden but persistent.

Always there in each of us, waiting behind the scenes, waiting to be noticed,

Waiting to be

To be

To just be

And be done.