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Nothingness

Nothingness

My head upon a pillow—
I am still
and ever so silent
listening ONLY to the
hush of wonder.

My mind traces memories
and I recall
their moments
quickly closing their
chapters to rush back
to the ‘nothingness.’

I breathe.
There it is—‘nothing’
and I welcome its
absence.

“Stay, stay,” I cry
as another thought
pushes itself closer
and closer.

I honor the disturbance
welcoming its
inaudible voice with
a polished bow
then whisk it away.

“Nothingness”…you are back!
The moments you were
absent I could not
wait for your return.

This feels like a dance
‘sweet nothingness.”
In our togetherness—
yes, in this hushed womb
of being,
I move without moving.
Yes, my feet do not touch
the floor
only they glaze across
its surface as if we were
skating upon ice.

Union with you, nothingness,
is like being born anew…
sweeter than honey
packed in its comb.

The urgency of the day is
before me
and now I am ready.

I have waltzed in your
emptiness
and licked the last drop
of your essence from
my lips.

Our encounters are
becoming not only moments,
BUT every moment.
‘You Are’—for I am.

Vanished

Vanished

“God, God…”
This, a name
shouted in the
frigid night.

“God” (Perhaps you, too
have called except
by a different name).
God…a word taught
to me from
my youth.

For so long I sought,
waited, longed for
and I cried out all
the more…”God.”

Now, a rush of
blustery wind
sweeps the ‘word’
I desperately seek…
“Come, come” but
instead ‘God’
vanishes like a
feather caught in
the wind.

I, now, fall to my
knees laughing.
Yes, laughing.

I have become
as if drunk—
intoxicated by
this name that has
vanished
for I have discovered
you in every living being.

I am drenched in love
frozen and still warmed
by God’s disappearance.

You have vanished into
EVERYTHING“…
Even what cannot be
seen~~~ I see.

Are you laughing
with me?

Go out…out
‘into’ the temple
where creation exists.

Catch your breath
call out a name…
Pray it vanishes—
Everything you once
believed.

Now—you are free
only to Love.

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Everything Has Its Time

Everything Has Its Time
(Adapted by this writer from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

For every NEW day
a season begins.
Yesterday shall never be seen and
today heaven lies under the
soles of our feet.

We are birthed into creation
and so we shall die
only to be re-birthed.

Like a seed pushed into the
darkness
we, like shoots rise—
our petals unfold
and then fall back into
the soils of time.

There must never be times
of senseless killings.
Healing the wounds of
yesterday is exhausting enough…
building a reign here, now, is
what we must seek.

For now there are tears
and they are what fill
the pools of eternal springs.

Laughter must always seep
through the broken places
and dancing should flourish
without a worry who is watching.

Stones should be skipped on
a flat bed of glassy water.
Children should count the skips
while adults truly ‘see’ the
castles built beneath the
surface.

Consciousness should guide us
in letting-go—we truly
possess ‘NOTHING’…in this
knowledge there is great gain.

A time to sew is weaving
in the hands truly knowing
how to utilize the needles—
Their voices silent…their actions
clear.

Love must endure…
like the path of a stream
seeking out new inlets.

Anything else must vanish
into the wind—
only love should be spoken
or not a word get past your lips.

Peace and ONLY Peace
leads to FREEDOM.
If war has solved anything
why is there ‘still’
fighting?

Everything happening is
as it should be.
May we be bearers
of transformation.

A Gospel of love—
ignited from the very
first breath.

Exposed

Exposed

The birth of winter
here again.
Her frosty face is everywhere
you glance.

The nakedness of the
season uncovered—
The trees once
adorned with leaves
NOW exposed…

Their trunks held
by the frozen earth
while the branches
click a different song
through winter’s
windy blast.

Winter gives time for
silent reflection
and reveals hidden
truths we have tried
to cover.

Our last attempts…
the fading colors
of autumn.

Truth so visible
still some will NOT
see…

They will cover themselves
by the work of
the poor ‘other’
whose tears now fall
like icicles—

They will not expose
the lies…
They will not take
back the cloak
torn from them.

Instead, they will watch and wait
while those others parade
themselves into
churches
singing Alleluia
and the message
preached from a hollowed soul
still waiting for
‘EMMANUEL.’

The cosmic message of
the Christ…HERE~~~NOW.

A warm blanket of snow
christened by the sun.
The chorus of birds
sings while one snow
flake after another
fills the “spot”
where the quiet angel fell.

Fell~~~ever
more deeply in love
with the winter.
Her wings glistened…
Her lashes glazed.

Exposed, yes—
She cannot be anything
but who she is.

And, she knows
in time
all naked truth
shall be revealed.

And, in the bitterness
of winter’s frosty grip—
silently she
grows ‘becoming’
like in no other season
all she has been fashioned
to become.

Did You Hear the Hoot?

Did You Hear the Hoot?

Dusk moved into
the day’s sky
lit by the sun.
Darkness came creeping into the brisk
frigid night.

The holy word opened.
A message proclaimed…
‘Prepare the Way.’
John’s ‘wild‘ voice…
Urgency spoken as one
by one they came to
the Baptist
submerging themselves
into the River Jordan.

He saw ‘through’ the
self-proclaimed religious
but did not turn them
away—and he asked
for nothing in return
except—METANOIA!

John called for a new way—
to make the path ordained
straight once more.

Struck by the words…
outside my window
a proclamation was sung…
it ‘sounded’ like the voice
of the ‘one’ crying out
in the wilderness.

Yet, this time
it was two owls
in their oneness
serenading all creation.
The stars now twinkled
with glee.

Holy wonder—
The shoot of Jesse
blossoms in this
winter’s night
through the joyous
hoot‘ of feathered friends~~~

Nature and all its
creatures
embrace the mystery.

How is it that we as
humans continue
seeking proof?

Stay Awake

Stay Awake

…Advent begins—
they call it a season of
waiting~~~ or AWAITING
what has and is already
in‘ the world.

In ‘many’ ways my spirit
takes in ‘all’ the
chaos—
not with the busy-ness of
shopping, gift-giving,
rushing here and there—
BUT, rather in the
unexpected…

‘Seeing’ the
fragility of Life—
…a beautiful
mind losing itself
and holding on
in the aging
journey
…a sturdy
companion NOW
holding on ‘for’
a support to
carry her
mighty trunk
and still she
stands with
GRACE.

My being
‘observes’ while I
try my utmost to comfort,
to care.
Still, in this
waiting, I look without
realizing a ‘preparing’ taking place…

So thief, if you are to come,
you can take anything from the dwelling
of my sturdy shelter, BUT you cannot
take the treasure that dwells in the stillness
of my heart in the HOLY moment(s) of
waiting, wonder and awe.

Silhouette

Silhouette

Yes…there you are.
Hidden within the formless void
an outline of being.

A shadow
perhaps ‘more’ real,
alive, displayed
than when eyes, ears, mouth
and nose revealed.

Open to imagination…
your ‘gaze’ seen by no one.
Expectations vanished.
Illusions removed.
Only You
who you really are—
a perfect self
at One with the whole.

No longer a need to
make it ‘right’ for
others…we are all called to find our way.

Your stage is the center which
belongs to everyone…
not only to the lonely others
who believe the world twirls
solely around them.

Nameless silhouette
you are every
I AM.

Forgiven

Forgiven

Can you forgive me at last?
Can you move beyond all the ‘pasts’?
Can you ‘see’ how much it has held you
back…holding on
to what is not yours?

Pick up that mirror—
look into those eyes…
that is whom you must forgive.

Go ahead break the glass.
Now look into every shattered piece.

It is You…whole
It is You…alive—
a prayer answered.

You are forgiven—
you always have been.

Bliss

Bliss

Sweet ‘Whisperer’
the One who lulls me
from my sleep—
Each day
you sprinkle stardust
upon my brow
awakening my gentle soul
to get up~~~

“Come, come~~~you say”
let us take our leave
while the night sky is still
young.  No one will ‘see’ us…
it is only you and I.

Let us spend some moments
together in silence.
Take my hand ‘already’
within your reach~~~our palms united.

We shall skip to the rhythm
of the cicadas’ song
and dance while the screech owl
howls to the moon.
We’ll try counting the celestial
wonders one by one till we fall
backwards into a bed of leaves
laughing as if drunk
with the sweetest of wines—
AND
when the first sign of a new day
begins to waken the ones ready
to make their way to work,
we’ll escape
as if we never were here—

From a distance we’ll see one passer-by
getting into the car
a cup of coffee in hand—
an IPad in the other.
We’ll see another
running to get to the
office on time—
cellphone connected to the ear.

We’ll hear the clock ticking,
horns honking, sirens
bellowing…
a ‘shot‘ in the not so
distant-distance
AND
we’ll remember
our silent ‘gathering’
only hours ago.

Then we’ll
HEAR the voices, the
sounds of ‘our’ children
and
wonder
how to bring
them “back” into
this prayerful
BLISS.

One Last Splash

One Last Splash

The sea—
an enormous sheet of glass.
Its ‘silent’ movement
rocked the group
plunged in as if for
one final hurrah.

There they were
like the Rockets…
one after the other ready to
step, kick, glide and then
swoon.

Their attire—
endless colors
and the hues melted
within the waxy waters.

I was ready…
eager.
I, too, wanted to set sail~~~
one last splash
before FALL would welcome
the winter.

Then…
each one began to call,
‘Pick me, pick me, oh please
pick me…’

Rising to the surface,
I went down.
We ‘met’
a first time
yet, a first of many.

We danced
like there was no
tomorrow—
and, the tide
lured us home.

Take Your Pick

Take Your Pick

As she picked the fruit from the Tree
she held it in her ‘gaze,’ AND
then began to toss it from
one hand back into the other.

What would happen
when she sank her teeth
into its juices?

Who really was the Author in
this story?

A single bite?  Oh no—
the sweet, savoring
sustenance…
Why would it ever be held back?
She took a second bite.

It was ‘she’ who was seduced by the
creation to which she had been invited.

She risked everything
so she could discover life.
She knew she was no prisoner…
Why would she be brought here—
to this place
only to be held as if in chains
from tasting Life?

She snapped the locks.
Perhaps the real deceiver—
the one telling her NOT to eat
for if she did she would
discover her infinite union
with the Divine who
brought all mystery into being!

Stop…if only for a moment.
‘Look’ at the Tree—
its fruit—
its ‘GOODNESS.’

Ask yourself,
“What rational mind
turned this story into a test
which painted the image
of a fallen woman?”

Yes—she fell alright…
She fell ‘into’ love
with Holy Awe
and wonder.

She did not know the risk—
still, to be given life
she had to take the
steps to discover—“HER.”

She birthed into life~~~
SACRED BLESSINGS…
One single bite
and still today ‘we’ are trying
to bite into ‘Transformation’—BITE!

Pick the fruit.
Let your mouth absorb
the passion.
What is your fear?
What holds you back?

The One who creates—waits
and waits as long as you
need…to TASTE.

Rolling

Rolling

The movie started
before it actually began.

I had a front row seat.
It was dark—
only the stars seemed
to light the screen.

The sound was a million
insects, if not more,
all singing their familiar tune.
The leaves cackled
and the creatures stirred
as I listened to a click
a clack of a broken branch.

Then something played that was
disturbing to my ear.
I froze for it was not anything
familiar and it carried the
sound of pain.

I waited—there it was, but
what I did not know.
I sat watching—dawn entered the
screen…the sound seemed to drift
away
until suddenly off in the distance
a thunderous roar.

Down—down the giant tree
came crashing to the ground.
Birds scattered through the air—
the sun found its way into
unforeseen places that tasted light a first time.
Still an end—
BUT, it was not the end.

The death of the mighty tree
haunted my being—
teardrops fell one by one.

I sat watching the film each
day wondering, wondering, wondering.

Suddenly, over my head
a large winged bird
swooped upon the tallest branch.

A raucous stirred.

What was now playing before my eyes?
Two small birds scurried down upon the
winged hawk…it was devouring the
small bird’s young.
All they could do was fly
squealing, but the large beak
would not stop consuming its meal.

Death stung my being.

Could I continue to watch this
film play on?

As much as I wanted to run
from my seat,
I sat.
I heard myself beginning
to breathe again.
A re-birth of my being…
something approached.

I saw movement in the forest trees…
I tried to close my eyes—
did I want to ‘see’ what was
next?

Out she came—
Her eyes fixed on mine
mine on hers.
We sat what seemed for hours
holding each other’s gaze.

We rested—
Her ears twitched
and she made her way back into the woods.
The last thing I saw—her white tail
waving as if goodbye…still the farewell
seemed only a
new beginning
and I paused—
half held my breath
while the film rolled on.