Inner Stillness in Predawn Darkness

There is inner stillness in the predawn darkness as

The forest begins to stir around me.

 

They seem to notice my presence

“Someone is among us”, they mummer.

 

As I sit in silence and wait,

The Eastern sky begins to lighten and

 

The earth responds with movement,

Air movement, a stirring, ever so slight and gentle,

 

More sensed than felt.

I continue to sit in silence and wait.

 

At last I can feel them coming closer, one by one.

Not in outer distance but in inner peace.

 

As they circle me I can feel them saying “Welcome”.

They bring such wisdom in their silence.

Such kindness without motion or audible voice

 

But a voice nonetheless, a voice that is felt with the soul

Not heard with the ears.

 

A voice that is eons old, no, older than that:

A voice that has existed since the beginning of time.

 

Since the time before manifestation.

Their voices speak to me in the sweet darkness of the woods

 

Telling me a tale of love, acceptance and kindness.

A story of life, of the essences of loss and the pain of suffering,

 

Of the agony of misunderstanding and mind induced perceptions, and

Selfish longings and needs: all of my own making.

 

But there is sympathy and empathy in these voices too, they know the pain,

They have felt the suffering, tasted the tears and watched their own hearts melt with disappointment.

 

The agony of loss is no stranger to their collective heart, so they truly understand my

State of mind today and give me comfort and love in a way only they can.

 

They know how I miss he who passed through the veil, they know him and he them. They are one together and it is his presence they allow me to feel here in this mourning morning softness.

 

The trees are my saviors; they surround me with their gentle strength and hold me in their arms

In the hardest of times, they understand without judgment, they feel my heart beat with theirs

 

As they stand together – silent sentinels of everlasting light and hope in

Noble silence and truth.

 

I am renewed by their strength, honored by their kindness and

Forever grateful for their love.

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The Soulscape of My Heart

Outcroppings of rock and

Lichen covered pinnacles of grandeur are

God’s favorite places.

Here he lets us see,

Lets us in on the secret of what makes him happy.

His eyes sculpted the mountains with a glance,

His hands scooped the valleys with ease giving light and dark a place to play.

His breath still powers the winds that sail and howl over the cliffs

And stir the hearts of human kind.

The mountains are God’s sacred place and

A place where I go to feel His power,

To be closer to heaven

To touch and feel His love.

He exists forever in the hard landscape of rock and

In the soft soulscape of my heart.

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.

Like Me

New friends.

We are so much the same,

Yet so different.

Is his smile a window to his thoughts?

Or a decoy for his sadness.

Are his jokes a sign of a lighthearted man?

Or a disguise covering something darker.

His story is like so many others,

Full of disappointments and fear, sadness and hurt.

Much like mine.

We are so much the same,

Yet so different.

We engage in small talk to lay a foundation,

Our lighthearted joking starts a deeper conversation.

But is it too soon, too raw, too scary?

There seems to be so much more to know about each other,

But, really, is that knowledge even necessary?

We appear to be so much the same, yet still feel so different.

Some of my stories are outdated and need to be let go and left behind.

They are no longer relevant,

No longer important to new friends,

Who, I have just come to realize,

Are so much more like me than we are different.

 

 

The Keeper of the Words

I will write it, I know I will, but

The thoughts are not yet ripe.

It takes time.

They are lingering in the back of my mind.

I can feel their presence,

Taste their flavor, and

Feel them in my soul.

The words to express my thoughts are

Getting closer and stronger but

I am almost afraid of them

Because I know when they are ready,

They will flood my will and overwhelm me.

There will be no stopping the tide.

The words will flow through me as they are not of my making alone.

They are thoughts and ideas that have a need to be born into this world

And I am only the wielder of the pen,

The keeper of the words.

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.

His Words

Some words are hard.

Their sharp edges slice and leave

Smooth slippery cuts, deep and painful.

Some words are afraid.

They bend and give,

And slide away in the heat of the moment,

Too weak to last and too shy to stay.

Some words are bitter

And stay bitter long after they are spoken.

These bitter ones are hard to accept as they are often spoken in anger.

They are vile and spiteful and

Cling and control and hurt without end.

Some words are strong.

They can be good or bad, right or wrong,

Truth or lies, it doesn’t matter as

Their strength alone makes them believable.

Some words are soft and warm,

They heal and hold, love and give,

And are too often mistaken for weakness.

But the most important words remain silent.

As when speaking the greatest truth, there is no need for words.

No hard or soft ones.

No bitter or strong.

And even the soft and lovely can be left behind.

So leave them all behind and let your soul speak the truth with your actions and heart,

uncluttered by words and their convoluted meanings.

Learn to live in that place where the universal language of love and peace speaks in silence,

The place where we all are one in His light and love,

Where sorrow is left behind, words of humankind have no power or meaning and

Love is all there is.

Words are way overrated.

9/2/18   Happy Birthday Lord Krishna, Hari Om

 

 

Summer Nights

Star fields swim on summer nights,

As Moon rolls across the sky,

Stirring them in her wake.

At midnight, Mother rests, sleepy from summer sun’s toasting,

While crickets quiet down and trees rest their arms and sleep too.

Gentle night breezes stir leaves in a quiet hush and

Mother Earth sighs and surrenders to another

Summer night in peace.

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.