His Secrets

 

The fox barks in the night.

He feels safe in the darkness.

 

He circles my house, slowly

Barking his questions at me.

 

He watches as I sit by the campfire in the yard.

I see his eyes at the edge of the wood lit by the flames, waiting, observing.

 

Does he have something to tell me?  Some great wisdom to impart to my so-called intelligent brain?

 

I know he holds all the answers but in his innocence

He assumes that I do.

 

He knows that all there is, is all he is.

It is only the falseness of my thinking that keeps us separate.

 

I envy him and his essence and ability to be completely in tune with all there  is.

But why does he watch me?

 

What could my presence here possibly give to him?

He needs nothing that I have.

 

So he continues barking his secrets at me and I continue to

Wait and long for that time when words and barks lose their separate meanings

 

And I finally understand and feel his secrets too.

The Soulscape of My Heart.

 

Outcrops of rock and

Lichen covered pinnacles of grandeur are

 

God’s favorite places,

Places where he lets us see,

 

Lets us in on the secret,

Lets us in on 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.

In or Out of Time

 

Transient whispers in the night,

Loves softness is given in kisses.

 

Bodies connected by touch and heat,

Hearts untied in space and now.

 

Time stands still and holds us there with it and

Darkness and light exist together in our hearts and minds.

 

Our souls intermingle in beauty and

Sadness.

 

Sadness for the perceived separateness and beauty at the knowing

That there is no separateness in space or time.

 

I need to find you again, in or out of time.

I want to hold you, but where have you gone?

 

Will you wait for me there?

Do you exist in one other than God?

 

Do any of us?

The Soul of the Storm

 

3:30 am February Thunder

 

What is it that speaks to me through thunder?

Why does it hold such fascination?

 

Why does it bring from and to me such joy?

It is just a sound, a physical reaction to the heat of lightening, a compression and release of air pressure, That is all it is, but is it? What more does it represent to me?

 

It is nature, it is God speaking to me, it awakens in me a sense of personal connection, me to God, me to nature’s voice, me to the divine Mother Earth.

 

Lighten is the spark, the bright flash of Satori,

But thunder is the voice, the depth of feeling, the depth of God’s soul in sound.

 

Thunder emanates from the extremeness and storminess of the soul.  It is the release of charge, not the lamenting of loss but a celebration of depth.

 

The sound echoes between the hills and shakes the ground.  It cracks and air and then rolls in waves of intensity lower and lower until its vibrations shake the very core of the earth and of my being.

 

It touches me in a very primal way, a way before time, a way before and above thought, a way that has no need for thought or time.

 

I feel as a tree must feel in a storm.  I picture how it must be in my head…

 

Standing in the night, warm summer air flowing through my branches, gentle purposful breezes stirring my leaves and off in the distance the brief brilliant flashes of lighting appear.  Their light, reflecting over the towering cloud tops,  announces the storms approach.  I know what this means and I await its arrival with mixed emotions.

 

The breezes start to stiffen, my braches and leaves are tossed and startled.  My trunk is strong but so is the wind and I am fearful.  As the storm approaches, the very darkness and emotion of the air is changed.  It becomes charged with anticipation, with expectations and apprehension.

 

The rain arrives first in wind carried drops, miles ahead of the storm.  My leaves dance to the rhythm of these gentle drops while waiting for the violence of the curtains of water that will accompany the storm.

 

As the storm gains ground and draws closer, I feel it rather than hear it.  It is a deep feeling that travels through the ground and vibrates and shakes my roots.

 

Then it begins to crackle overhead and toss my limbs like whispers of silk.  My leaves are turned upside-down by the wind and my storm facing bark is soaked by streams of rain.

 

The sky lowers and pressed heavily on my crown.  Forest creatures take refuge in the shelter of my branches where I hold them tight against the onslaught of power and turbulence from the storm.

 

The storm roils through my forest, soaking the soil and bringing energy and life to the earth.  Its violence is only its great need to communicate its passion for life, and then it begins to fade…

 

It moves off to the east, dragging its lightening with it.  The thunder fades quickly with distance rolling back into the silence from which it was born and the forest night resumes its rest as if nothing had happened.

 

 

As the storm passes I return to me and to my soft, warm, dry bed and dream of being a tree as the trees watch me though the open window.

 

They understand better than I do our connection, me to them, them to me and all of us to the soul of the storm.

A Part of His Plan

 

It is warm here now.

Just yesterday I could still feel the cold.

 

It retreated upward,

The sun melting the frost.

 

Mother Earth sending her warmth

To meet the sun’s, with me in the middle!

 

I hear the rain striking

The earth above me now,

 

Its sound no longer muffled

By the snow.

 

The water puddles around me in the spaces between the rocks and

Softens my shell with its spring freshness.

 

My soul is awakened and has been waiting for this moment,

Waiting for the conditions to be just right.

 

My softened shall cracks and

A single, tiny root pokes its little head out into the soil.

 

It stretches its very being into the darkness and

Finds water and nutrients to power my growth.

 

Slowly my stem emerges from this shell and pushes me ever so gently up and up

Around the rocks and worms,

 

Bending to avoid the obstacle’s, always holding me in love

While searching for the sun.

 

I have never seen the sun, but I know it is there.

It has spoken to me in my dark winter of dreams.

 

Its promise is finely fulfilled when, only by  gargantuan efforts, my

Tiny stem has transported me to the surface of the soil.

 

My head breaks free and I feel the fresh spring breeze for the first time as

My stem lifts me up as an offering to the sun.

 

Through my soil bound journey, a miracle has taken place within me.

The work of God, done in darkness, is now revealed.

 

My seed splits open and my two magically made seed leaves open

Their fresh green faces to the sun.

 

Its brilliance is over whelming and

Its warmth and love unsurpassed.

 

I feel its strength soaking into even fiber of my being.

The sensation is incredible and I am full of life.

 

But the end of my journey is still a mystery to me.

What will I become?  Only God knows …

 

He has built the blueprint into my soul

But he hasn’t given me the instructions.

 

I will grow in the awareness that I am aware.

My being will take in the sun and wind, the soil and water, and I will become that which God intended.

 

Whether his intentions be a sunflower or a string bean,

I will be happy and joyful at being a part of His plan and

 

I will rejoice in His goodness.

Hari Om

Be Dissolved In The Liquid Son

Imposters by fate but still

Miracles at birth.

 

Holed up in falsities

Missing the point.

 

Unsettled souls reap only what

They sow, no gifts are given or received.

 

No promises kept, no dreams fulfilled.

Maybe next time, but next time never comes.

 

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

A sadness steeped in familiarity,

 

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 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…

 

There will be darkness no more.

 

God’s Space

 

The night sky displays

A sea of stars that are

Lights to my soul,

Pinpoints of hope in the darkness.

 

It is a sweet darkness,

A still darkness, in the arms of God.

 

He is holding his creation close to his heart but

Giving it space to grow and spread its promise of love’s light.

 

The confluence of channels of prayer, 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 darkness of God’s space

 

Populating the emptiness between the stars

And the heart of the Creator.

 

It is though us that His word becomes

And His darkness is empty no more.

The Now of a Heartbeat

The darkness in the depth of my tea mug

Is as vast as the universe.

 

Its emptiness the very thing

That makes it useful.

 

But depth is relative,

My cup can be as deep as the ocean and

 

The universe as shallow

As a thimble.

 

The night sky calls to me

To come and explore the spaces between.

 

But they are all the same, the spaces between you and me

Hate and love, all and nothing – no space and only space.

 

We are made of space and little else so my being can hold this limitless space

And my body the universe just as

 

Infinity exists in the now of a heartbeat

And forever is defined in the bloom of the milkweed

Sunrise Lover

Sunrise lover from

Soft, warm darkness.

Light filters in at sunrise and

Rises from the floor and spreads to the ceiling.

As the room brightens, his form slowing comes into being,

Emerging from the rumpled pile of bedclothes.

Smooth, soft, dark and lovely.

I lie with him, my face resting against his.

In the half light I can just make out

His eyelashes, resting on his smooth cheek.

His noble nose is outlined by the

Light creeping in through the window.

His lips are beautiful and full,

Soft and sweet.

As the room continues to lighten,

His breathing quickens and his body stretches.

I move back just a bit

To take in his whole being.

He is strong, lean and beautiful

All I could ever want or need.

His eyes flutter open and his smile,

At seeing my face so close to his,

Is so beautiful and welcoming

As if to say he missed me while he slept.

4/3/15

I wrote this 10 months ago. It is one of my favorites as was he…