Passions

I know that I love what I love.

My passions are many.

The sound of thunder ignites my soul.

The scent of simmering soup warms my heart.

My passion overflows for clear glass bowls and jars,

Shelves full of home-grown goodness,

Baby smiles and sighs,

Forest trees and critters,

Gardens full of life and love,

Friends and family,

Krishna’s promise of another day of light and joy and

My lover’s heartbeat at midnight.

My passions consume my heart and fill my soul and body

Leaving no room for sadness and negative thoughts as

I have no passion left for them.

Between Seasons

The forest is different now,

Everything has changed.

The sky’s blue is colder,

The north wind is stronger, and

The trees’ summer green has faded.

Their leaves, lighter green now, are studded with hints of red and gold, brown and yellow.

My garden plants are lying over

As if to say “enough”.

They are entitled, they have given me all they can.

But nasturtiums, marigolds and impatients are troopers and refuse to let go.

They will stay strong until the frost’s icy fingers drag them down to rejoin the earth and sleep.

Summer’ song birds have long since flown away, and in their absence

All I hear are the crickets and the crows.

Autumn evenings are chilly and quiet, the silence broken by the occasional lonely bark of a fox and the haunting calls of the owls.

Heavy wind chimes hanging in my forest have been silent all summer but

Now sing with the strength of autumn winds while thistle down floats by in layers of life to be.

This season between the seasons is one of slow change but with an inevitable end.

There is no turning back, no chance to stay and nowhere else to go.

But in spite of this certainty, there is no turmoil, no angst or resistance among the trees and flowers for they know

This is how it should be, how it must be,

How it has always been.

One season losing its grip and

Sliding gently into the next.

My Hands

My hands are softer now,

More wrinkled but softer.

The physical strength of youth has faded

But the strength of endurance has remained.

Life is softer now too,

Also more wrinkled but softer.

Youth’s sharp edges have been dulled,

Made safer by times wearing.

Just as water over rocks smooths and polishes them,

My physical shape too changes with time but

My inner song remains the same.

 

Unnoticed

There is magic in this night.

Brilliance in its darkness and darkness in its light.

Tonight, my soul is deep in the arms of midnight,

Too deep to see,

Too blind to know,

Its cries too silent to be heard.

I am astounded by the simplicity of this midnight,

But also shocked by its truth.

Too much time has passed with too little thought and

Now… what of now? 

It is gone.

Forever to remain,

Unnoticed.

God Space

The night sky displays

A sea of stars that shine as

Pinpoints of hope in the darkness.

It is a sweet darkness,

A still darkness in the arms of God.

He holds his creation close to his heart and

Gives it space to grow and spread His promise of love’s light.

The confluence of our channels of prayer and the gathering of oms has the power to

Open the sails of change.

Sails that steer ships with hulls full of enlightened souls

Through the welcoming love of God’s thoughts

Populating the emptiness between the stars

And the heart of the Creator.

It is through us that His word becomes manifest

And His darkness is empty no more.

August

August, a month of

Heavy air, morning mists and summer’s last hurrah.

Its sultry nights are drenched in humid air and thunder

With light shows between the clouds at midnight and

Rain hissing in the dark on the forest green.

Late summer dawns are still and thick and hang over

Flowers spent and gardens full.

In late August the earth speaks to me in fruits and vegetables,

Hay fields and corn rows, empty fields and full root cellars,

Reminding me that Summer’s end is near.

Darkness

The stillness of the night air

Hangs heavy outside my window.

Its darkness threatens to come in,

But my reading light keeps it at bay, and

Although the light is bright, drips of silent night

Sneak in around the edges of my window sill

And puddle on the floor by the curtain hem

To remind me of the darkness that lurks just outside

My window

And my heart.

An Everlasting Light

I need to see the moon lit patterns of white and shadow on the grass and hear how they speak to me once more.

The chimes are calling me again from the silence of my soul to look, listen and observe.

I need to hear the hungry owl’s cries in the night, feel its silent wings move swiftly in the darkness,

Too swiftly for its pray, and watch with detachment the

Swift death, natural and inevitable, made a villain only

By my thoughts.

I need to leave my disturbed thoughts and become the stillness in the chaos,

I need to reenter the silent swiftness of the owl’s wings and moon shadows.

 

For it is the only place to be and

The only place where I have ever existed.

I must never be distracted again.

My being had begun to seep away while I was preoccupied,

Distracted by another, an unnatural evil but one of my own making.

 

But the owl’s wings are bringing me home now,

My time of regression is done, but it has taken its toll.

 

My heart is weaker, my thoughts harder to read.

There is never regressing without damage to my soul.

 

Solitude and stillness, as a getaway to the road back, are coming into view…

The road back leads to the place of reclamation of my soul,

 

Back to the essence of bliss, to the everlasting light and to

His hand in mine.

 

Dissolved in the Liquid Son

 

Impostors by fate but originally

Miracles at birth.

Now holed up in falsities and

Missing the point.

Unsettled souls reap only what

They sow, they received no gifts and are giving none in return.

No promises are kept, no dreams fulfilled.

Maybe next time they say, but next time never comes.

It is the same ending, over and over and over.

A sadness steeped in familiarity, with

Seduction, for its own sake,

The only prize.

It is a shallow, stagnate prize

But the only reward there is.

It is time to break this spell of soullessness and

Open to the pain and recognition of your deluded being.

Absorb it, take it in and by doing so defuse

Its dark energy.

Deny its claim on you,

Step away from its hold and

Watch, watch as it shrinks

And fades.

Watch it be consumed by the light,

And dissolved in the liquid love of the Son.

Watch it be taken from you

To hurt you no more.

Awaken and feel the light and goodness

Of who God made you to be.

It is there, already in you, see it for yourself

And when you do…

Pain will lose its sting and

Darkness will be no more.

 

 

A Robin Sings at Dawn

 

A robin sings at dawn and

The day breaks on a new world.

 

A world different from the one

The sun set on yesterday.

 

It is the same earth but

A new world.

 

My world is not the same as yours and

Your world can never be the same as mine as I am not you.

 

Our eyes work in the same way, yet

See everything differently.

 

A million souls have been lost since yesterday, but

A million more were born.

 

We are not alone or the same…

 

Watch the progression of the wind through the trees.

Notice how each tree moves to its own song and in its own world.

 

As do we…

 

Do you feel the same breeze that moves the trees?

Do you know and hear their songs?

 

They hear mine…

 

Today, even my heart is different than yesterday’s,

Is yours?

 

In the night my dreams change me and

I wake up in a new world.

 

It happens every morning,

But it’s never the same.

 

The world’s consistency is but an illusion.

 

The ferns leaning against my porch screens are a little taller than they were before.

 

Overnight, more geranium buds have opened and

The garden has drunk up all the water I gave to it yesterday.

 

Everything has changed

Yet appears the same.

The illusion is well practiced and convincing,

 

Or is it?

 

After all, the Robin never fails to sing at dawn.