Shadows are empty outlines.
A suggestion of life in a void of darkness.
My shadow follows me faithfully until I step aside
And light returns erasing the darkness and setting me free.
All I need to do is step aside, just step aside…
Tag: changes
Again and Again
My life is contained in a shoe-box beneath my bed,
At the bottom of a green glass vase of pennies, or maybe
In the prayer flags hung over my mirror holding the cut-out owl Karen made for me.
My soul is contained and content in a mildewed pod growing in the land of wind and chi.
My future and hopes lie waiting in my pendant box, waiting for my questions with answers I may not want to hear and
My love, where is that? In my heart or his? Love and lust are confused and linger in the scent of him on my heart.
My future is no more concrete then a speck of dust illuminated by the sun’s rays peaking through my lace curtains.
And death, what of that?
When it comes I will seal it and I in an empty bottle and set us adrift on an ocean of eternal possibilities and
Where the tide will take us is where we will stay and begin again, and again, and again…
A Beautiful but Bumpy Ride
Wisdom leeches out of melting snow banks and
Star light travels from the ground up as
moonlight seeps though the pores of the earth and floods the sky with peace.
Come, sit by my side in the forest at midnight and
Feel the earth’s truth in her being.
Be still and let your soul be free.
Then hold me tightly as it is a beautiful but bumpy ride!
Words
I deal in words.
Words are cheap.
Saying things doesn’t make them real.
Words can mislead, lie, and twist the truth.
Words were never meant to be taken literally.
Take Care
There is peace in my body,
Light in my eyes,
Love in my heart, and
You in my soul.
I am an interesting mixture of
Timelessness and words.
Hold me close and I will enlighten you,
Love me deeply and I will give you heaven,
Hurt me and your thoughts of me will stain your soul
Forever, so, take care and
Be mindful of how you hold me.
Winter Loneliness
Stars swirl in a midnight sky as
The forest tiptoes through darkness,
Aware only of itself.
The owls have returned.
Their voices in chorus give life to the darkness.
A fox barks back to them in welcome,
His winter loneliness forgotten.
(4/7/16)
Silent April Snow
The early spring silent snow
Fits my mood.
It is a white dusting of truth
Accentuating every little branch and twig,
Making every little lie all the more obvious.
The silence into which the April snow is falling
Seeps through my eyes and into my heart
As if to smother and quiet its
Telltale beats.
It comes as blessing and a curse by
Prolonging the inevitable with maybe that one last chance.
But I know the sun will come out and
It will all be just a memory …
Once again.
Mine to Claim
There is a light in my words.
They possess a divine luminescence
That does not flow from me
But from a much greater source.
A source above and beyond me.
But the other ones, the dark words,
Where do they come from?
They take over sometimes, in spite of what I say I want.
Where does their power come from? Me, him, somewhere else? Someone else?
They seep into my soul unbidden from a place I don’t want to claim as my own.
They weave their webs around my heart and steal my light.
Their thoughts are dark, their meanings are dark, their hearts are black and broken.
I would feel sorry for them if they were not mine.
They are here to control me, to upset my basket of good and light.
They are mine to deny and disown, but mine nonetheless.
To deny their existence or my creation of them would be to deny a basic part of myself, maybe one I am not proud of but an integral part of me all the same.
So now there remains the question of what to do with them, yet again, or with the me that breeds these destructive thoughts and words…
I don’t know. To shut them out would be to deny a part of me, and maybe invalidate my good thoughts and words as there can be no light without the dark.
But they are heavy words and sink to the bottom of my soul where they lay neglected but never ever forgotten, and never formally put to rest.
Their dark lingers in my mind as it is familiar and known. I know the depths to which they will take me if I let them, as well as the indifference they feel for my heart and soul.
I should stay away from them as they are cruel in their relentless pursuit of my mind and thoughts, in their attitudes of sorrow and despair.
I think I’ll tuck them away in a folder at the bottom corner of my desktop. Out of the way but not forgotten as
To ignore them gives them power, a power over me that unattended can take me to places I would rather not go, bad places,
Their places,
Dark and heavy places,
But still they remain
Mine to claim.
A Play of Stillness (2/24/17)
I sit on the stage.
Darkness surrounds me.
The audience, if there is one,
Is silent.
There are no props on the stage
Only layers of black curtains.
Although I don’t remember auditioning for a play,
Here I am.
It’s odd that there is no music or
Other players.
So I sit in my darkness for what seems like forever
But there is still no sound, no movement, no life.
Just stillness and a mild sense of confusion.
I feel the space in front of me more than see it.
I sense it is there, curtains in a circular shape
A boundary perhaps but between what and where?
The other side is unknown and unknowable
Until the show begins.
But will it begin? Still there is no script or other players,
No music or lights.
I run my hand through my hair to prove to myself that
I am still real in this sensory deprived place.
But what is real about an empty stage, a wordless play,
A playerless story?
I begin to realize that
None of those things matter.
All is stillness and non-duality.
The “show” never begins and never ends.
The circular curtain and empty stage contain eternity
And this space is an empty place within me.
There will be no play, no script,
No lights, no audience.
This story is mine, the darkness my stillness,
The only witness, me.
Just me as part of the universal consciousness
Acting out a play of well-rehearsed lines without ever saying a word.
Each player a part of the whole
Never separate from the others.
All joined in the cosmic drama
Of existence.
The curtain rises on one story, one actor, one consciousness
In an act that never ends.
Waves of Grief (December, 2014)
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Grief comes over me like waves on the ocean. Its waves roll me under and then shove me back to the surface for air,
but only just enough air to keep me alive Before the next wave breaks and drags me back down again.
It is a rhythmic dance of hope and despair, Of light and dark, of breath and suffocation.
The rolling waves of grief grow weary with time and come more infrequently and so seem to rest for a while.
But the pain lingers, subdued at the back of my soul until A sound or scent revives it and it comes thundering back.
Back with an attitude of indignation to have been Left where it was, not looked for, not missed.
It seems to think it has a right to occupy my mind and heart and Sometimes it does, but only because I let it.
The song that grief sings to me makes my soul hurt and my heart ache Until my body once again feels his against mine,
My head resting on his chest hears his heartbeat and my senses take in the scent and Taste of his skin.
My soul feels his touch once more and the potential of his being mingles with mine In the beauty and magic of oneness.
I feel the oneness deep in my heart until the inevitable happens and our song runs out of rhyme once more.
With the rhymes gone the waves of grief for what could have been return to remind me of the empty shell I loved and held in my arms and heart.
The liquid suffocation that I thought was losing instead gains strength without my permission and
Sucks me back down,
Again.
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