FORMLESS

FORMLESS

This aged suit is threadbare and tattered,

 been scattered in more ways and places

than I can  recall.

The man in this mirror looks strange to me.

There are hairs growing on the outside of my nose

that I can only see with my readers.

My soul is still a child,

innocent,

 and doesn't understand

this slow decay into formlessness.

I am tired and retired,

given plenty of time to ponder

what this life was all about, 

what this life was meant to be, 

what this life may yet reveal..

MURKY

Life is Murky

..and constantly changing.

Nothing is truly still.

Rocks crumble into soil.

Leaves rot enriching soil,

feeding and encouraging seeds

 towards sunlight.

Nothing really leaves or dies.

Everything stays

mysterious, murky and always moving.

Everything is sliding into everything.

We are not apart from anything.

We are a part of everything.

We ourselves are murky and uncertain,

frightened only

by our need to know.

We are awed and eased

and light as light

when we surrender to the embrace 

of the infinite mystery.

WHO?

who is it that beats this drum?

if you think it is you then

leave this circle,

you are not ready for truth,

who is it that fills these lungs?

if you think it’s you

you do not sit in this circle,

but trapped within yourself,

that beating drum 

within your chest,

that flute played with your breath…

gifts, all gifts..

the drum, the flute, this breath

now this breath too, 

gifts, all gifts,

 each present moment.

who is it that gives you these gifts? 

if you do not know, 

find out!

IGNITE YOURSELF

Burn up until nothing of you is left

but ash.

From an ancient gnarled oak,

roots deep into ground,

our limbs conspire and contort to reach the sun

and stretching beyond that familiar inviting light

 we speed and swirl past planets, suns and moons, 

flinging them out of our way

 we spiral outward, ever further-

faster then the speed of light.

it’s true!

we are past light

racing into nothing known,

an unseen endless void,

a deep drop into nothingness,

 die into nothingness, 

into silent emptiness.

This is the source of everything!

DO YOU BELIEVE THAT TREES CAN DANCE?

NEVERLAND

Remember when anything was possible?

Sure you do..

You were a kid,

we were all kids then,

Trusting, innocent, believing we could fly..

just before the ether took me to Neverland

where my tonsils were removed,

Tinker Bell was dying from the poison she drank

to save Peters life.

Peter pleaded, 

“If you believe in fairies clap you hands”.

And I clapped and I cried and I clapped some more,

Hoping that everyone everywhere would join in clapping

So Tinker Bell would live. 

And she did. 

Many of us must have clapped

to save Tinker Bell, 

to save innocence, 

to keep free our imaginations,

our hope.

Take just a moment now…

Think back to that time so long ago. 

Do you remember?

Were you clapping then?

Are you clapping still?

Can you imagine a world better than the one 

we have created for ourselves

here and now?