Helpless

In my dream I held her.

She was tiny, crazed with rage.

She beat her little fists against my words,

as if brute force could keep the nothingness away.

I was sad but I told her it was ok, that all would be well.

I said I would take care of it and of her…

But I lied.

I couldn’t.

I was just her friend with no power to stop her disease.

I felt guilty.

But there soon came a time when it really didn’t matter anymore.

She didn’t remember me.

I don’t remember her being so small…

It must have happened when I wasn’t looking.

Solitary Seclusion

In self-imposed solitary seclusion

the so-called facts are in doubt.

It appears the spells have been lifted and forgotten,

And life has become merely withstood,

Not lived.

But why?

Why just withstood?

Why just survived?

Let’s bring back the spells.

Believe not in other’s so-called facts

But in the universal truth.

Surrender to the beauty of solitary seclusion

And rejoice in the freedom it brings

to enjoy what is,

and not what only appears to be.

Next Life

Is is me who I grieve for.

My heart and soul wait

anticipating it all to be as I want, but

I chose you, unwisely.

Why cant you be more, be what I want?

All of you, the collective you too.

But it is only me,

smothering in want and need.

Occasionally the sun breaks through but only to be swallowed by the sea, again.

Will it rise tomorrow?

Maybe not.

It is all slipping away,

It is almost over.

Until next time,

love,

next life.

Misplaced

Waterfalls of silence

flood my senses and heart.

It is too hard and too soft at the same time.

Smokey shadows of what could have been linger.

“If only” echos across my senses

alone to exist in the perpetual in-between.

Only a thought, a glimpse of there and then.

Not here and now.

Passion, mine,

misplaced and misunderstood remains

quiet and sleepy now,

All consuming,

Silently alone.

Too Late

It’s too late now.

No point in trying to start over.

It is back.

Same but different.

I feel like I’m waiting.

Waiting for life to pass as children do when they play games

killing time to grow up.

Except,

I’m killing time to die.

But it’s not a sad state.

It feels normal.

A part of the progression of life.

Moving toward the end,

is smooth and well… it’s okay.

I feel sometimes like time has stopped.

My quest for life’s riches has ceased to be important and, in its place,

is a quiet resignation, a comfort.

Gratitude fills me with the knowing that all is as it should be.

There truly is a time for every purpose under heaven…

Always Over

Everything is always over.

It isn’t here and now,

its there and then.

The window shade is crooked,

driving me crazy.

Its never over until I fix it.

The trip is over,

It was and now isn’t.

If there is no memory of the doing,

did it happen?

It isn’t here or now,

or there or then.

It just isn’t,

Or is it?

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.

 

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.