Roots reaching
Fingers reaching
Branches reaching
Hands reaching
Songs reaching
Hearts reaching
Rivers reaching
Life reaching to touch itself through you.
Morning burns itself in this fire that consumes itself in this imaginary space between what never happened and what will never be.
Painted with disappearing ink, you story dissolves as it is brushed onto the river we all know but cannot catch.
We are this edgeless flow of echoes
How beautiful the cloud reflections
dancing on water, merging falling into and through each other. Without lines they were never separate. Where is the solidity you long for? Perhaps it is an impossible dream to find something behind your shadow.
Where is the line between the mirror and your reflection?
Where is the joy the magic you tasted and long for? Perhaps it is in the looking for it that creates the illusion that there is a thing called magic surrounded by a thing called not magic, and a solid stable thing called a you looking, and an uncrossable imaginary distance between them.
How magical that you seem to appear in this thought dream. How magical that it can appear that there is a thing called magic. How magical that this dream of separation allows awareness to be aware of being aware. Where is the line between awareness and the symphony of perception?
What are you looking for... the magic you seek is you.
First crow
First light
Baby crying in the distance
across the cliffs
Echoes of echoes of echoes
Soft breath of my husband
Mists of morning tea dance with their shadow on the window
Backlit by dawn
Afterimages of love’s memories
Write the day
Sing my silhouette with sky
It may dawn suddenly or over time that the primordial song you have longed to remember need not be and cannot be remembered or forgotten. All trying to remember the words seemed to obscure it as it has no words, yet includes all words.
Day fades into your beautiful sunset
Colors bleeding
Sea and sky echo this last kiss
Voices of thought, bits of song, tendrils of memory untie themselves in the wind. A crow dives and dances and lands in the tops of the swaying palms. Ocean whispers, ‘there is no time’, and you remember, as you are carried into this sensuousness of lostness. Of the fullness of sky. And the death of grasping.
Only memory painted your reaching hands, your trembling heart that ached for tomorrow and wept at the never forever beauty of time.
Dissolved yet dancing
Longing of wind
Sings your name
Love wrote her name in the sea-foam clouds and she watched them dissolve in the whirlpools and eddies of sky and the fathomless suck of tides.
“Why me?” “Why love?”
All questions fell through the deep abyss that closed when joy and sorrow merged and smiled.
She kissed the wind to find direction and felt the sea fall all around her. There was no purchase on the starlit path. She wondered if her feet were hers. There was no comfort in adding up a lifetime, no rungs on the ladder of time. Vault of sky crashed and there was nothing above.
First crow of morning had no meaning nor the sun’s first warmth. Her heart collided with an echo of love, and dropped beneath the bottomless depths. Below time there was raw sublime aloneness.
Ocean song poured through her. Adrift on a sea of dreams, love had no place when it was everywhere. And nowhere. Only this song of love that had no source or goal or words that needed remembering. A reflection of futures day’s past cast a lifetime of shadows across the skyline. It un-wrapped her nakedness with a story of a girl who lost herself and found these beautiful liquid eyes.
Ocean bathes
Wet in wet
Sun dances
Light in light
Wind surfs wind
Life breathes
Echoes play
Rippling reflections
Of reflections
Of reflections
Of reflections
Mirrored glance reveals
Starlight pouring through me
Through you
Ballet of time and place
Empty beyond empty
Full and rich beyond measure
We arise in the dance
The twining
Of shine and shadow
A caress a kiss a gesture a touch reveals an empty hand
Longing to be held
Wind grows and falls silent
Song of flowers blooming
Day grows and falls into its own hush
Love wrote her name in my heart
Moonlight swoons through moon-glow
She sings her name
our names
just like this
Where is yesterday’s sky
Where are the tears of tomorrow
When is your heart
Not weeping
I see the footprint of my heart
Hanging in it’s own shadow
Blossoming into golden
autumn leaves falling
I spied my shadow lingering on the garden path
Lustrous moon filled my footsteps
The empty dawn
what happens to this game of illusion when it’s realized that no one threw the dice and every number is magic? the edges of the dots begin to blur...
It’s a dance a magical hologram of aparent oneness twoness and plurality, knowing not even nothing exists having an independent nature.
So tender so delicate these rippling waters reflecting wetness in wetness alighting on your tears. A kiss touches it’s own touchless touch.
The feast is always on
Rarely noticed
Delicious beyond Measure
Yet
Brief
That is one of life’s tastiest parts
And then there is love...
The space between the lips and the kiss
Between the breath and the song
The hush the pause that is always on
Whispers of nothingness weave a web where jewels are caught in the moonlight
Weeping
Not joy nor sorrow
sublimely bittersweet
Tears reflect your naked heart
Cast adrift on an edgeless sea of dreams
bottomless inky blackness below endless vault of sky above
Suns and moons flowing through you
The shimmering surface a reflection of your own gaze
His name a crown the prow of a ship born on a river of time. Propelled by a tsunami of fear. Pulled by the call of a distant horizon and a diamond see...
Cloud shadows soothed his naked desire to feel all the love he feared to lose, but the swirling empty dresses parted in the clear light of recognizing his hands had never steered this ship on a shoreless ocean.
A shadow soared over the shimmering reflections and he looked up, yet he could not find a cause nor trace of what had never been and what would never be.
like an unheard unsung song on the tip of his tongue, empty verses lost their grip, and a kiss from within broke the silent sound barrier between love and joy and sorrow and the ache for what was.
memories fell into the vastness as his ticket had no destination, his dance card unsigned. A brilliant vacancy, no name on the open door, light streamed through the cracks in the ceiling and the floor boards. Winds blew through his unfettered un feathered nakedness.
rains plummeted into the vast unending sky as he was crushed by the enormity of nothing left to do or say. No one left to do or say anything or nothing. Simply this utter undeniable magnificent enormity of light dancing.
His heart exploded from his empty chest and revealed the treasure he had been searching for.
the empty gown swirls
and sings
Weeping and laughing deeply without line or tether, vast songs flow weaving the dream into songs of lions roaring, of butterfly kisses without nets. A touch less touch of midnight hush basks in its own reflection
He never needed to see where the sky kissed the sea, it was his own moon rising in the unfathomable ocean of tears where he drowned.
It all unwrites itself
like a tight knot
seemimgly inperturebable
the loose ends
of emptiness
like tendrils of unbroken sky
un do themselves
Finding nothing underneath the wraps
most grab onto whatever description seems to fill the gaps
but its all gap...
The invisible man
there was really
really
really
nothing there
wow
Stunning
aint it
Last song of returning partygoers echoes into the sea. Waves crash and recede and reverberate up the cliffs. Symphony of night, of cricket song, the sleeping breath of my husband, faucet slowly drips into a bucket, and the first crows call and answer. They weave their nests in the tops of the towering palms which sway outside our balcony. The heaviness of stillness whispering ‘this is it’ is evoked by poems that stir our hearts with a beautiful longing that cannot be caught.
And who would want to catch the morning breeze, or stop thought? They exist in their movement, this caress of life swirling. Life seems to dance all around you, yet without you there is no dance no wind no waves to sing of your aloneness. No one to revel in the intimacy of touching hearing watching tasting this all pervading feeling of aliveness that permeates the passion play. You are not separate from feeling, no one has it. You are not separate from thought, there is no thinker. There is no one who can step outside of this edgeless sea of dreams and manipulate the wind.
We are Impressions of reflections, a gossamer woven light raft shimmering on the see of dreams.
footprints dancing on the edge of time...
there was never a moon nor anyone to point
no time when or before or after
hello goodbye this afternoon without time
unending magic hour
Moonlight's shadow fills the cracks where I lost my reflection
infinite beauty ricocheting reverberating echoing
infused with stories of love songs
A kiss from within perfumes the vast canyon where I once lived and yet remain
the memory of love is who I am
beauty roars flows tip toes
infinite petals bloom
Filling me emptying me
Without these clothes of nakedness
I cannot feel the magnificent ache of sky
Memories lost their grip
the knots loosed themselves
where were the strings that held my heart
where were the ropes that moonlight slid down
Where were the vines that held my innermost being from exploding
Inside fell through outside
In between collapsed into in between
half way towards up
a million shades of sunlight
erased the illusion of shine and shadow
my heart dropped
weeping and laughing deeply at the same time
water colors on the river
this ever blossoming ever wilting momentary emerging and dissolving into itself sings
Tears flow
the world is weeping
sliping into the imaginary spaces between us
love ignites
Washed in ringlets of dew
set adrift
gossiping among the stars
Her reflection smiled back
Dreams of kisses unanswered
Tomorrow fell into a broken memory
A single leaf sailed unencumbered by its golden radiance
Leaving no mark to meter out time
The stillness of Whirlpools singing of oceans vast
Never caught wetness
infinite permutations of blue on blue on blue on blue
Vault of sky without end
An echo of a babies cry sails across the sea
Abject aloneness reigns
Wet in wet in wet in wet
Weight of light through water
sky flowers bloom
sublime heartache of this fleeting kiss
this touch that finds itself only in the barriers that reflect your mirrored glance
your beautiful beautiful eyes
weep
Love has already slaughtered you. Can you remember when you first felt all alone? Can you remember when you didn’t feel this heartache?
Love has already shattered your heart into infinite pieces. You don’t have to wait. There is no next. Every mirrored shard longs to kiss itself, yet they were never apart, and need not be glued together. You need no fixing.
There is no seed deep within that will grow and flower. You already are the most beautiful flower. This heartache, this longing is you. Life kisses itself through your beautiful beautiful eyes and lips and tears. Just like this.
There must be two imaginary mirrors for reflections of reflections to dance
Through you I can recognize my beauty
Through this dance I know love
And even these words
Like infinite emptiness nothingness
cannot be imagined
This essential emptiness is beyond any idea of empty. Not like there is a glass that was full and now it's empty.
There is no container of emptiness.
There is not something which has disappeared and now there is nothing.
There can be a feeling of no you nor everything nor nothing. A spacious vast expanse without lines or edges and simultaneously the knowing that you exist only as these imaginary lines.
There is no word for the feeling of vast seamless thing lessness that includes and contains all things.
It always feels like what ever seems to appear Is utterly naturally perfect. Knowing that Perfection and non perfection are made up, just like me. How magnificent this dream of you of me of we.
The longing to share this, Knowing it cannot, draws my echo in sky. When I'm not singing of this that cannot be kissed with words, there is truly nothing, suspended as awe.
When we are born we cry out!
Reaching out your fingers drenched in your own tears painting water colors on this river.
All the emptiness poured away and ran into beautiful rivulets and pools and oceans of tears
and the sapphire and the blue are inseparable... empty words describing an indivisible edgelessness...
and leaves and wind simply dance...
wind has no idea from where it came... and does not care
leaves have no concern as to why they fall and swirl and call winter into the sky
singers have no care as to why they sing...
rivers have no concern as to their name, and with no purpose they so beautifully flow....
...and when the notion of personal volition falls away life becomes a beautiful effortless timeless indescribable flow...
words
like a film of iridescent oil
Create dragons breathing fire
battles won and lost
Time becomes lost
but passion plays on
And the cup is painted with delicate swirls that spin clouds into your drink
we drink deeply of this life
this tiny window
this brief glance
it fills us and pours us out
Through us the universe recognizes it’s own aliveness and sings
Palm fronds bend and sway, reaching arching, falling, twisting and painting a fabric of sky. Light dances through this wind ballet and weaves the earth with shine and shadow. Where does the path end and your feet begin? When is the sunlight bathing your face separate from you? Where does it’s warmth begin and end? On your skin? In your heart? When were you ever separate from this sensuous symphony of perception? When have you ever been separate from the recognition of it? When has your tremendous aliveness not been obvious through this unspeakable majesty of life recognizing it’s aliveness through your tender delicate eyes?
The story of palms dancing and a lonely wanderer adrift on the shifting sands writes your feet into the picture and seems to paint separate footfalls and someone weeping. Yet it is always life singing all by itself, there is no effort required to feel.
It may seem like the story of you is so opaque it has blocked the recognition of this joy of aliveness, but the knowing of your supreme beauty has never been lost and cannot be gained, as the recognition of it is your story also. Simply obvious always, awareness is aware of being aware through this passion play, this brief beautiful window of the story of your life just as it is right now.
Leaf and flower patterns flow over and under my feet and into the dawn. Inside and outside dissolve as I revel in this sensuous beauty of morning that breathes me. Thought sings just like this and a singer emerges in the dreamscape.
The first beach crows announce the end of darkness so that they may fly with their shadows across the sea. A call and answer love song bequeathes the day with a ballet of light and shadow. Ripples of wavelets swim under over and through each other and reflect echoes upon echoes mirroring endless sky as they recede into diamond sand.
Where were the footprints of yesterday’s tomorrow that beckoned with promises of love unending? They vanished in the flowering of the richness and fullness of simply life flowing without time yet always in time. Never a step missed or taken in this love dance of one of two of many of none.
dew on the morning glory
night of weeping is over
day greets itself
the void has no echo
no mourning song
missing the sea
is walking by the sea
longing for the shimmering waves as they dance
love is like this
the perfect poem
Got away before he could sing it
It pierced his beating heart
and sunk his dreams like zeppelins in the night
and he tore up the empty pages and wept
Not realizing he
Was the rainbow fish
That got away
I am as you see me
A girl a woman an artist a poet
what is it that draws these hands that scribbles these lines that paints my mouth that sings these words that dance across your mindstream? What is it that longs to kiss a love song in your heart, your very own love song that sings you?
I am this longing this ache of never and forever that dances life into the looking glass and twirls.
What is enlightenment
What is a sage
What is the sound of moonlight shimmering on the receding waves
Rush and roar of traffic
Afternoon sun
Catches
One
Falling
Golden
Leaf
Washing my dying mother in the tub,
She loved the warmth and her favorite soap.
She was so skinny!
The next time I washed her in bed.
I never believed she would die.
Until she did.
I walk around town hugging people.
No one is a stranger.
I feel how hungry they are for someone to tell them how beautiful they are, and how precious life is, no matter what it looks or feels like.
Scattered voices, bits of song and laughter weave themselves into ocean song. Egrets fly home to roost, white wings and the mirroring sea catch the last light. Thin moon paints a door into the cricket night. Walking through shadows that echo on the cliffs, the sublime ache of aloneness sings like this. All eyes are alive with the singing of it. Even the wind that dances in the palm fingers paints it across this path. It is the song of our aliveness that we share in the shadowland, and it is the twining of songs that brightens into this searing love.
I greet you and weep at your broken hearted beauty, or is it mine I see reflected in your beautiful beautiful eyes. I can no longer tell and do not care as I am this shared humanness. We exist only as each other’s echoes and there is no original song from which we spring. Not eternal nor temporary the tears of time fled long ago and I can only see and feel this kiss that sings my lines, this love that bleeds into the dream.
There are no waves nor ocean without you. Your brain paints distinction through this ever flowing thought stream. Through words the picture of endless blue. Through song the painting of you on the cliff breathless with this overwhelming beauty of life singing you. Without words this unsigned current of emotion drinks you and fills you. What erases the lines between joy and sorrow is not the absence of words, it is the end of belief in them.
Thought becomes most beautiful when it is known to paint the wind.
There are no footprints on the road to nowhere
Not even mine
Last crickets pierce wind withered sky
Mourning love songs
Hang from a branch
Falling petals
Old poems
Dying
Caught on feathers
White Sea Bird
My eyes follow the sunset
Beauty weeps at its own unfathomable nature
Through these eyes
Love sings and paints the wetness that sees it
In her drawer of intimate clothing
After she died
Hundreds of unused lick-on tattoos
A sage is a self much like other imaginary selves but their brain has had a profound shift in perspective.
There is no longer the belief in separation. The essential emptiness of things and the holder of them is always obvious.
There is an ever present awe and joy that permeate the dream, as enlightenment is the dream as well.
This seamless sublime ease that the sage feels is not the end of self or thingness, it’s the knowing that all thingness is made up.
Knowing you and me and love is made up is not the end of love.
Dawn looks at me and does not turn away.
I write love letters that I cannot send.
I sing verses that it cannot hear.
In this dance of light and shadow that trace my steps, my heart song, my breath in the wind, I emerge. In these wild lines that emerge from love’s fire where there was not even darkness, nor emptiness, nor even a void, day brakes and sings.
Whispered stories
Shadows in the wind
Empty silhouette of sky
You may find yourself walking along a beach and start to wonder if you’re in the water or on the sand. You may turn around to see from where your footsteps came, and find none. You may begin to find the sea falling into sky as the lines that separated down and up begin to blur and you may begin to feel dizzy.
You may lunge into a hut on the beach where others gather and tremble at the enormity of sky and light and the absence of any safe harbor. You may mouth their words of vastness
For awhile
But the longing may outweigh the fear of unknowing and you may find an unspeakable joy when this absence of handholds leaves you sobbing as you watch your dreams of love and tomorrow burn in this all consuming conflagration.
Never and forever collide in this unfathomable namelessness where tears still flow, but there is no one weeping.
The empty moon inside your heart
Cannot hold light
Nor shadow
Dusk flowers in the shadowland
Wind beats on these tattered shutters
Dark cannot hide your emptiness
Nor your tears
Crow sits in her nest at the tippy top of the tall swaying palm. She has no thought stream to tell her the wind or the night or that she exists. We cannot see the inside of our skull or the workings of our neurons yet Boundless sky appears in the day and the night time dream. Through the thought stream the sensory symphony seems to have edges, lassos in the sky, cliffs and clouds and night and day seem to appear. Before and after write your story. But there is no before thought as before is thought. All description paints the dream, there is truly no this or that without words. All we can know is this thought dream, as we are it. There is no escape there is no outside to the dream as inside and outside are the dream.
Many believe that enlightenment means the end of the dream. An escape from their humanness. This is not the end of you and me and we, this is not the end of sorrow. This is not the end of desire. This is the end of the feeling that desire is happening to a person. This is the end of the feeling that sadness is happening to a you. There is no longer any feeling that joy and sorrow and love and longing are separate.
What could possibly split the night into a call and answer love song but this magnificent thought stream?
The lack of belief in next slayed me. Viciously it erased the parameters of who I thought I was. Realizing there was nothing other than this ultimate perfection dancing itself, which I had always suspected, eviscerated me. I lost my smile my lips my teeth my tounge my skin my heartbeat my breath my life as I knew it and found myself again, ravaged and spit on the shore where even love had walked away.
I got on my feet and ran into love again. The pyre burnt itself and out of the ashes a beautiful beautiful dream arises. However it seems to appear is always perfect, knowing there is no perfection or flaw.
Is it bliss is it love is it awe?
It is a beautiful longing for simply this. Life flowing all by itself. Amazed still after all these years. Wide eyed love.
Light and wind and love and life stream through me as me, as they always have, all ideas of grasping are gone. It’s not that my hands are empty or they disappeared, there was never anyone to catch the wind. Only words streaming through the vastness, the lines and squiggles evaporate upon hearing themselves. No castle was built and there is none to crumble, just cloud dreams that whispered of a vastness that could not be seen. It is felt now always as I dance on the edge of a feather between love and nothing at all.
Supreme spaciousness of knowing no thingness drinks me as I pour it into a paper cup and watch the swirling songs that glisten on my lips. this all pervading love that has no name nor number was always present, I just never noticed. The lines that felt like a prison have become transparent. And I the centerless jewel sparkling.
There is no one who can step outside of what’s going on to accept it or reject it as the effort to accept it or reject it is what’s going on
Sent from my iPhone
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