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Some of my stories are outdated and need to be let go and left behind.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

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.