Can I love a stranger?
Strangers are souls that we
have not yet met.

Loving a stranger is easy as
it requires only our minds.

Once I decide that you are lovable
I will then bestow upon you the traits that
substantiate my claim.

It requires nothing of you.
You don't have to be anything other
than what I call you.

SIT AND BE STILL

Suddenly the absence of sound
in my head appears
like stars on a clear dark night.

The murky haze that had been my home
is lighted and I can see the world.

The world is new
as I accept what's before me.

My judgement no longer a player;
I am free.

Still I struggle to stay centered
in this place.

The pull of negative energies is
ceaseless, obstinate, unfaltering.

Tomorrow I may slip again.

Glory that all of life
is about this moment.

BETTER DAZE?


Rough patches and bumpy roads?

Sometime all I feel is sour;
like the smell of spoiled milk or rotten eggs.

Sometime I feel enshrouded and ensnared;
lines invisible tugging at my head and heart.

Sometime I hurt like a little boy and am angry like a man.

Occasionally dumbstruck, astounded I feel lost and afraid.

Still I am sure.

Sure that I am stronger for it.
Sure that I am better because of it.
Sure that I will never be free of it.

Better days ahead.

ALWAYS WHAT IF


Always I must wonder what if

What if she changed her mind
What if I were told when the first question appeared in my eyes

What if it all just didn’t mean shit

What if the void is never fully healed
What if I just grow up and move on
What if everyone stopped listening
What if the truth were told
What if the answer is so what
What if my babies misread my fears
What if my life never changes
What if I never make a difference
What if the meaning of it all is nothing
What if I live all my days in doubt
What if this is as good as it gets
What if I could change it all
What if I wouldn’t
What if the lesson is worth the loss
What if I am better then I might have been
What if I never again
asked what if…

THE WIND AND THE RIVER

Still, the silent lake top
calls to the weary traveler
I am your mother
the source of generations.

The wind howls through
the cowering trees,
I am your father
the breath of life
is my gift to you.

the weary traveler
turns up his collar
defiantly harnessing the wind
and fording up the river.

I am man
and I am boundless.
I no longer fear the wind.
I consume the rivers
and I stand alone
on high .

The medicine men
weep as the old ways
disappear into history.

Old women and ancient men
acrimoniously scorn their
offspring for undoubtedly what they have
wrought is insolence;
as it was
so shall it always
be

War torn nations
bleed one another
scoffing at nature’s revenge.

The wind and the river
remain;
filled with the futile cries
of the few
and the blood of the many.

I SWING

On a swing I glide,
sailing way above the world,
child like and care free.

The winds that blow beneath the swing
are foreign yet they hold no fear for me.

I swing above that world
and I am free of that world.

Free of the world that would stifle my growth.
Free of the world that would hold me prisoner.
Free to be alive.

I swing high and wide as the chain will carry me.

I swing in full force and effect with the power and blessing of God.

MY SALVATION

On the day you appeared I remember:
the beaming smile and twinkling eyes.

Your loving spirit
warmed the room, filling it with charm.

Remembering the days before you:
I was bitter and afraid of life itself.

Smoldering embers of a gentle benevolent
soul were kept alive and nurtured by your example.

Loving me so at a time when at the core
I had come to believe myself unlovable, lighting the way
that I might discover the joy of living.

Standing in the tides of triumphant self-realization
I have finally begun to see.
To see with new eyes the
eternal truth that is my birth-rite.

You have been my salvation:
my direction and my obsession.
I walk alone along the path
that love draws from nothing and everything that we are.

Smouldering embers kept alive
by your nurtured, patterned and unconditional love.

Wading in the tides of triumphant self-realization,
struggling with obessive depression; soaring to
mountainous heights from a stagnant meadow of malaise.

Your love has granted me boundless joys in these limited days.
Share a moment as I drink in your legacy the very gift of life.