broken whole

I came to you
like one searching in pitch black for the light-switch

I came to you
sick of all my broken words
seeking another tongue
and when my fumbling fingers finally found that light-switch
it was your voice that spoke through my mouth

I came to you
from a land of setting suns
seeking another dawn

I came to you
carrying the pieces of my self
burdened and broken with the weight of my own forgetfulness

I offered you these fragments of my self
in a platter of jigsaw puzzle pieces
hoping you could figure me out
and make me whole again

How was I supposed to know
that being whole is just an illusion?

I came to you
seeking salvation in a line from a poem that you once wrote
I came to you seeking a solution
giving you the scattered jigsaw of my soul
in some wild hope that you would be the one
who knew how it all fit together

And you took those pieces
and you let them slip from your fingers
like autumn leaves, all the while
looking straight in my eyes
looking straight into my heart
and you said

Even this
even this illusion of salvation
was necessary for you to know 
that to be whole is to be broken
and to be broken is to be whole

***

I never left the sacred ground
of that point in time where we met

And instead of picking up those broken pieces
with which I approached you
I now carry your memory

Those shards of my old self
still lie where they fell from your fingers
unmoved from the winds
they have taken root in the earth
and grown with Spring into shoots and sprouts
spelling out my renewed vows
against this inheritance of forgetfulness

And even this
even all of this
even sacred scars and stitches holding together shattered hearts
even the forgetfulness that I lament
has been nothing short of divinely necessary
for me to remember the echo of your name

confessions p 23

We laugh, but we do not really laugh
we cry, but we have forgotten how to weep
we breathe, but we do not subside
and come to life with each breath

I am realizing more and more
that many of us look but we do not see
we touch, but do not really feel
we hear, but do not really listen

we love, but we do not burn
we live, but we do not die
because that which is already dead does not die
and we leave, without ever having really been here in the first place

2012

re-enlightenment

a turn back inward

the search for the lost heart

the soul's inquiry

quest for self-knowledge

to find the origin

a rediscovery of meaning

the triumph of mercy

an internalization of knowledge

relearning the language of the heart

unlearning what is not heart

remembering roots

a reification of the soul. 

conversation with the heart p. 2

The beloved asked her lover
when did you first love me?

The lover replied
I loved you before mirrors
before I could recognize my own reflection.
I loved you before I knew the words "I" and "You"
I loved you before names
and before the myriad forms.
I loved you before the need for any number greater than one.
I loved you before the sea of beginnings forever born.
I loved you before the Moon became enamored of the Earth.
I loved you blind, before sight, before light
before death and before life.
I loved you when there was only Love
and Time and Space had to be created
just so Love could find expression.

confessions p 22

Sometimes, I can see all the world's ills in myself. 
To some degree or another 
I can see that which we recognize as good or evil in my own heart. 
If that is the case, and all our hearts are the playground of conflicting dualities 
why do we point fingers at one another? 
As if we are all not fighting our own battles. 
As if we are all not hosts to a variety of angels and demons 
in the recesses of our own imaginations.

**

To be continued...

confessions p 21

She asked me
How can you judge me differently than yourself?
What double standards
What rhetoric
What mask of your ego
protects you from your own judgement?

How are we different?
What socially constructed right
do you hide your belief
that you are somehow better
different, wiser, more clever
to be measured by your own standards?

Through what omniscience do you know
the context of the hearts' and minds' of men & women?
Through which divine clairvoyance
do you understand why people do what they do?
What sacred knowledge grants you the ease
To judge others and forget that the greatest battles
we fight are with ourselves?

Words hung their heads before the tip of my tongue
They checked their flight and speechless
Recognition dawned.
She was I and I was she.
When I spoke against her
I spoke against myself.
When I tickled her ego
I tickled my own.
When I worked toward her liberation
I worked toward my own.

With eyes like mirrors she looked at me
Twin rivers streaking down my face, my hands
Trying to hold an ocean of forgotten self-inflictions.
She took my hands in her own
wiped the tears from our faces
And watching myself
in the hieroglyphics of her irises
She said
This world is like standing atop a mountain
Whatever you say makes its way back to you
So choose your words carefully 
The only judge here is the echo of our own voice 

conversations with poets p. 2

X:
Oh poet o poet, you stole all the lyrics, left none for me. Inspiration is gone and no longer comes easily. Oh muse of music, now it is my turn to hold the key

Y:
Oh mirror o mirror, the lyrics are the shell, what they hold is everlasting. Inspiration is a well that runs deeper than the deepest well in the world, older than the oldest star in the universe, and as long as there are those to contemplate Reality's ineffable effulgence, inspiration will never run dry.

Origins

Whether we are God's creation

Progeny of Adam and Eve

Or children of the stars

And the stepping stones of evolution 

Whether everything 

Or nothing is a miracle

Whether scientists discover the origin of our Universe

Or theologians find irrefutable evidence of God 

Whether alchemy or aliens

Whether intelligent design

Or evolutionary theory

At one point

Something arose 
From Nothing

Whether it was the Big Bang or Seven Days

At one point

Everything as we know it 
Materialized from absolutely nothing

And that is all I need to know

There are holes big enough for our Universe 

within the theories and understanding of men

Whether they wear white lab coats or ceremonial robes

Most sell false gold coated in certainty

So give me no gold, certainty or white robes

Take me away from everything

That takes me away from this

Each moment, each breath
A reminder of that pre-eternal dance
From Nothing to Something

ruminations p 1

...I peered into the mirror and saw you...

...Instead of a heart, she had a mirror,
everyone who looked at her saw a reflection of themselves...

...The ugliest thing a mirror can show you is yourself...

..In my lover's memory, I traced a path completely my own...

...There is no rose without thorns...

...Hold me like your Starbucks in winter...

...I am not made of ice, to melt from a little salt...

...Falling in and out of fuck...

...The most beautiful thing a mirror can show you is yourself...

...If it bleeds, let it...

...I just went through a whole day, and I'm still asleep...

...If it beats, don't stop...

...I slept through the snooze, rushed to work, and when I got there
my dream said wake the fuck up...


...We're all stories waiting to be granted an audience...

Sea of the moment

A hush gently drapes the early morning, like mist
over everything there is a dull glow
like headlights through thick fog.
Within this sleepy silence
there appears no movement
only a kind of effortless sway
a serene dance between light and shadow,
tree leaf and grass blade; heartbeat,
breath and each blink of the eye.

Sitting here witness to the blossoming sea of the moment
I can't help but ask
why move unnecessarily?
Why assume that I really know better?
Why grasp? Why move away from this moment?
Why impose myself onto this magnificent mural,
this bewildering tapestry that I can scarcely understand? 

I just want to be as here as possible
I just want to be as me as possible.

And when I run that course
I turn around and stop running.
One by one, I remove every article of clothing,
every trinket that I have collected along this road
and one by one, those memories slip from my fingers
and the wind carries away the pieces of my heart.

Migrating birds

Somehow, I've always known what is to be done.
This life, this chance of beautiful breath
can not be lived for my sake alone.
I can not subsist by myself
this I know.
Where I'm going, feet won't take me
shoes and shawl can offer no comfort.
Where I'm going, memories do not follow.
So before this body's time is up
I would ask for wings from my dreams
to fly my soul to that final destination.

confessions p 20

I always believed beauty was in the effortless dance
of a leaf caught in the breeze, a laughing rose
the revolving night sky, serene passing of clouds
and the slow growth of root to branch to fruit...
But effortlessly, is how I want to waltz and tango through these killing fields
Effortlessly, is how I want to bleed.