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Displays
Displays
Some pieces
of art work
—have no signature
—no title
they simply wash ashore.
The beach
—a museum
—free of charge
DISPLAYS
Drops of Color/ The Artist
Drops of Color
The Artist
The artist began.
A gentle brush stroke.
A dab of water.
Dipping into pools of color…
each a sacrament
—a portrayal
—a sign.
Slowly, the image
becoming clear.
Lifting from the matte,
breathed into life
—created
a living human being.
Trees clapped their branches.
The sky sank, for a moment
beneath the sun,
bowing in reverence.
Birds anointed the easel
with their savory swipe of feathers.
The human looked upon
the Artist
and simply said,
‘One day, I hope to be like You!’
Hands through time
Hands through time
An acorn
lets go of the long
arm that has cradled and nurtured
the seed—until NOW.
Around and around
this cycle spins, twirls, revolves,
a wheel of time
—evolution
creating, sustaining, lingering,
dying
and discovering life—AGAIN!
Glancing upon scene after scene,
the picture, the same in its frame,
yet, it is different, changed
and grows off the edges.
The acorn,
like the wheel
circling the seasons,
plants itself through changing
weather
—it grows, slowly.
The acorn’s becoming
forms roots
digging downward into the darkness
while its stem bursts the soil
—discovers light and rises!
The necessity of the descent,
the ascent
—the rhythmic pattern
—the rings
unseen forming inside the Oak.
An acorn
lets go
—the wheel winds
itself like hands through time.
In the blink of an eye,
we ripen
planted in the Season.
Flow
Drops of Color
Flow
The earth ‘shaking.’
At the top of a ridge,
a magnanimous display.
Millions of droplets thrust
from an edge.
The direction—
spontaneous.
No time to waste
‘casting lots.’
Speckles of moisture
spew every which way.
Fierce, elegant,
Powerful, grace in full motion.
Tantalizing, soothing,
Life altering, washed away
hidden pools—
tiny creatures bathe.
The sound
deafening
—spill a box of pins,
you will not hear a single
drop.
Nature…
rapid, swift, breathtaking.
A force, always changing,
wondrous to behold—
earth shattering, if you attempt
to defy its way.
Beauty, wonder
witnessed from a distance.
Shoes off—
standing upon ‘holy’ ground…
Drenched by ‘I Am.’
Humbly stepping on…
trusting life’s flow.
Play me…
Play me…
Pretend I’m an old
tin can.
Bring your ear close
—closer…
that’s it!
Touch a key
—again.
Touch another
—play me.
Before you go
—tap the old tin can
AND
whenever you need
a song
—lift the cap
Play me.
Drops of Color/ A Genuine Gaze
Drops of Color
A Genuine Gaze
No words necessary.
Countless couples.
My eyes privileged to behold.
I cherish the moments
—like framed photos.
Love unfolded in
a nod of a head
—flesh touching
—a gentle swipe
—skin to skin
—a glance
—a soft whinny.
Expanding
—love revealing itself
in the ordinary
and most extraordinary
gaze.
How genuine…Love is.
…close to ‘home’
…close to ‘home’
There are moments i feel
so close to ‘home’
i nearly touch the
stars and then there
are ‘gaps’ where i feel
i’m millions of miles
away.
Note: Look closely! A plane is flying near the center of the Moon!
Behold the enormity of Wonder we are blessed to dwell within.
Let us make it last now & Forever!!!
Drops of Color/ Sky’s Landscape
Drops of Color
Sky’s Landscape
The sky,
a ‘land’scape,
splashing its image upon a body
of water.
Clouds weave into the scenery
magnifying the mirrored
scene overhead.
The sky began to laugh,
or was it the wind?
A strong gust rippled the waters
sending onto the shore
a million drops.
The landscape,
carried in tiny beaded pools.
Pausing, I realized
I was soaked.
A thousand drops
dripped from my brow,
my shirt, trousers
saturated.
My boots drenched,
immersed in the sky’scape.’
I began to laugh,
the sky ‘tucked’ within me.
Hovering…each cloud
reflected back
an endless view.
The sky’s landscape.
Treasures
Treasures
Treasures from the Sea
That is just what
they are…treasures!
Not possessions…
Pearls of wisdom
meant to plunge
back into hid-den depths.
They remind us of our
own holiness
—hidden treasures of
Belonging,
Not possessions.
We are gift given
—receiving freely
—offering back
treasures.
Drops of Color/ Questions
Drops of Color
Questions
Is there a rainbow
stitched into a waterfall?
Is it a waterfall
illuminated in the cusp
of a rainbow?
How do we live the questions?
Maybe, in the moments
that expand our vision
—we become
the rainbow
—we encompass every drop
of the waterfall.
We understand the questions
need no answers.
Living the questions is
the ‘breath of life’
transforming us
making all things NEW.
‘Seek the wisdom that will untie your knot.
Seek the path that demands your whole being.’
~~~Rumi
All the hairs
All the hairs
counted.
The exact number known
while a chirping
sparrow sits upon my horns.
The sparrow’s worth
not measured here,
nor the strands
of my furrowing drapery.
Our significance,
well, I’ll not be
the judge.
It appears our place in
this time, this space,
IS our purpose.
Why spend time ‘pulling’
hairs?
It’s easy to know the sum,
even if you subtract.
And, even if you could
add a few more strands
to the weighted mass
above your brow,
does MORE really mean
you’re ahead?
Yes, all these hairs
are counted for.
Praise
Praise
Mutilated
—these words
broken, fragmented,
endless run-ons!
Wild Fires
A lo ha
~~~the island shivering
in ash.
Praise, praise the
natural world
wreaking havoc on the
learned, ignoring the signs.
The stock exchange
adds their numbers,
while DNA samples
—the only means
identifying the dead.
Plucking a chord on my guitar
—a vibration
fans the room
finding a way to an open window.
The music
finds its way to the devastation,
the destruction
—voices rise like incense.
Praise the mutilation
of the world,
dance in the funeral’s ballad.
Nothing is truly missing
—life has a way of passing on,
returning new in a mutilated world.
Would you try to sing a hymn of Praise?
Mahalo
Inspired by the Poem: Try to Praise the Mutilated World by Adam Zagajewski
Translated by Clare Cavanagh