poem – Page 5 – three good words

January 12, 2016January 12, 2016

overflow

lay me down
accept this offering
two to the one beyond
what is thought to be known

where grace is given
where light is hidden
amongst stars
legion
dusted on the endless black

lay me down
let the only sound
ring beyond all
that is known to one
and another

where time is no more
than the essence
flowing over
lapping on the shore
of all our senses, one

giving, living
knowing
one to all, all to one
like water flowing
glowing, bright
curved against the diamond black
breaking the rays
of the brightest sun
our morning star.

December 15, 2015

once more

…again
at a wood-panelled structure
once more unto the breach
while on an improvised stage
singers, young
sing songs delivered
from the twice born…

And it is important to remember
that the “I” in me
is simply one of many;
that all are trying
to touch the void
that vastness
that remains enigmatic
delirious
ancient, divine.

…and again
we are all in it
together
in this beating, breathing
entity
(passed on, one body at a time)
this wondrous thing called
Life.

November 26, 2015

moments, many

to be thankful
is to be mindful
of those moments, many
where one is centered, whole

a heartbeat, two
a minute, an hour, a day
where there’s more
than the day-to-day
9-to-5
Mo.-Fri. plus overtime

where, like music
the world opens wide
to heartbeats of peace

where you can exhale and just
be.

a moment of
genuine
thanks giving.

October 3, 2015

once more

the sun once in bloom
now alive, hidden
in a land of green and black and gold

O, what grace is given
to know
all that we have known
and seen amongst us all
paved along the waves
once crossed, bound in stone

built in those days
when we still knew forever
a time of tears and laughter
flesh and bone
not lost
but no longer known

and so it goes
or so they say
the bells chime
the wind blows
and time is born once more.

September 26, 2015

reflection

fall and thoughts sail down
like leaves off a tree of self
doubt and certainty

asking, wondering
so many etcetera, too many to count
silently loud
in the quietness of hidden hearts;

questions that linger
ever since ‘I’ became ‘Me’
and ‘You’ was separate
apart, a part of everyone
else
someone, somebody
a body beyond the self
‘I’, ‘Me’
sad hours seem long

that room where they come and go
why Michelangelo?

consciousness, they say
is when a mirror loses its wonder
and becomes reflection.

this is what we have
a sense of confinement that is open
static yet moving
a constant attempt to decipher
the senses trick or treating
us to another’s perception;

always desirous to
touch beyond skin
and hear the voice
that reaches our inner ear

as deep as heartbeats go
beyond skin and bone
to that marrow that others call soul.