Heart full of sky

Never tied
With a ribbon or a song
This heart full of sky
Has no chambers
Or shell
Nautilus whirled and melted
Into its own swirling
Iridescence flows
Love sings

No one awakened
No one was asleep
There is no one dancing with love
There is only love dancing




We are the essence of life flowing
This slow sensuous dance without sides echoes down the Grand Canyon of love.
These spaces these gaps these moments are imaginary
There is nothing which separates us
Only these imaginary faces
No one wears

I see your broken hearted beauty
Twirling down the canyon
Gazing at your reflection
Weeping
These tears are my persona
This laughter
This love

This banquet where no one feasts
Sumptuous
Life tastes itself
Sings itself
Through these lips this tongue this heart
That exploded and imploded into everywhere and no where
Such sublime edgeless beauty
That I am that we are
That this is

how could you not be the breath of love

how could you not be the breath of love

Moon beckons as it fades in the dawn 

No path leads to night 

I lay in the long summer grasses 

They wave moon-song into day 

Intricate fluid transparency soars 

Light and shadow and infinite hue

Colors streaming swirling dancing 

Hovering between the dream and the real

This obvious seamless song is composed of echoes 

They sing your name and you remember 

This lostness 

That was never lost 

That no one forgot 

In this timeless heartbeat 

That has no pause 

Yet is the hush 

The silence 

The love 

You 

Love has no measurement 

Nor sides 

Nor center 

What is the sound of love? 

Love needs no translation

Nor sky

Nor sea

Nor life.

What is the color of love?

Where are its eyes?

Look in the mirror

And see its face.

It is not owned

Cannot be captured

This dance 

That spins me across the shimmering

Shows me my reflection 

In your eyes.

A mighty river 

Has no ultimate source

The rain is so lovely this morning.

Pools of echoes sing 

Moonlight catches a glimpse of its beauty through our eyes 

our hearts our songs 

That were never ours

Life needs no one to push or pull it

It goes nowhere 

You cannot follow it

Or lead

A dance of shadow and light

Swooning into each other

Falling through the swoon

Is this very kiss

What is the sound of love? 

Love needs no translation

Nor sky

Nor sea

Nor life.

What is the color of love?

Where are its eyes?

Look in the mirror

And see its face.

It is not owned

Cannot be captured

This dance 

That spins me across the shimmering

Shows me my reflection 

In your eyes.

A mighty river 

Has no ultimate source

The rain is so lovely this morning.

Fresh mountain stream 

Rippling over rocks

Through grassy meadows

Cascading down lofty cliffs

Rushing through the canyon

Life streams

This stream is life

Its color is reflection 

Its sound is echo

Life is its movement

This movement is life

Thought streams 

Reflecting the morning 

Mind is its movement 

This movement is mind

I walk through the sunrise 

I cannot catch it

I stop by the river

I see my reflection

Not separate from the flow of mountains and sky behind me

Or the ripples flowing

Or the sandy bottom

I bathe in wonderment

Wonder is me

we are a streaming tapestry of memories, we are constantly being woven and unwoven.... 

ever blooming and wilting, a garland of memories washing in and out on the tides...

there is nothing but this flowing... 

and there is no one or thing flowing .... 

not even nothing in the center... 

there is no center

Love’s essence cannot be distilled 

Yet I am intoxicated 

Stars falling 

Blue in blue in blue in blue 

Dreams crashing 

Wet in wet in wet in wet 

No one would throw themselves into this pyre

To be consumed by their own love 

But after the stars fall 

You become starlight 

Blooming and fading 

And after your dreams collide with hope and fear 

Scattering moon beams into the sun 

It’s better than any dream come true 

There is a sublime fearlessness 

And a tender fierce love 

there is no ultimate truth nor ground of being, no flower that doesn't wilt. as you try to pick it, your hand and the grabbing and the flower are the same flowing fabric as well as the recognition of it. you cannot gather roses from this flowered dress. until these words seem to capture the making of this beautiful bouquet, there are no flowers, no petals falling, and no vase to contain them.

Knowing and feeling this sublime lineless-ness, still, lines seem to appear when I am dancing with other imaginary characters. Only with you can I find my feet, my eyes, my beauty.  Our feet, our eyes, our beauty. 

However this pseudo reality of this and that is never believed. Wonder subsumes the dream of knowing that this is a mentally fabricated dream.  I seem to appear, as the longing to sing of this surges into song.  Yet knowing that every word is a razor seemingly slicing up the sky, still I am the longing to point to seamless-ness, and ambiguous poetry seems to write itself.  There is never the feeling that there is a me writing as I watch my fingers on the keyboard even now.

'why am I' she yelled at the darkening day.

this can't possibly be it!!!!!!

I suppose it is the intuited knowing of our ultimate emptiness and aloneness that creates the longing for meaning and purpose

the projection of future is super for the species, to plan and make things... yet for the imagined individual it is heartbreaking, as they know deep down there is no future, yet most run around in ever faster spinning circles trying to ignore it.

and as many times as I say, this is it, coyote, most will say, yes I know, and continue to believe in other better more and next.

and I weep

my heart was a tight knot of fear

slowly it was ripped apart 

knives of fear fought with the dagger of hope

leaving not even love 

it poured onto the barren ground 

where my skeleton lay

bones white in the moonlight 

this empty shell cracked

nautilus unwound 

burst into sky 

not even a silhouette 

can dance by itself

I am nothing

without you

this heart was never mine

knowing that is to bask in the light and warmth

of a thousand suns

life is falling into and through itself

there is no place to rest

if everything is flowing?

who would rest

if you are this flowing?

there are no sides to this river 

it has no beginning or ending

yet has never begun

nor will ever be

there is great rest in this knowing 

that there is no thing to grasp

this slipperiness 

has no hand to hold even emptiness

not even your heart can hold this aliveness

that you are

there is sublime stillness

in this hush of  

whorls and ripples 

sunlight dancing

closer than your tears

your heartbeat

this thought

this most intimate of all knowing

cannot be ignored

this is it coyote

the price was everything 

to gain nothing at all

which was already the case

no one would choose to be eviscerated

yet I would have gladly given anything 

for this life without hope and fear

of a never arising next

pure silence 

seamless unknowing

radiant darkness

never hidden nor lost

need not be found

or uncovered

it is not underneath these words

nor inside the music

it is these very words

as you read them

that seem to hide it 

that contain it

this fire of aliveness

apparent in this very symphony of perception

that has no edges or center

as perception is inseparably perceived 

life seems to come and go

like a flowing river

but there is no where from which it comes

and I cannot find anywhere to which it goes

all thought about it is illusion

yet illusion is a thought

no separate things have ever existed 

nor have there ever been separate moments 

outside of the mind stream

nor even separate thoughts

there are no separate people

nor sun and sunlight

moon and moonlight

stars and starlight

lovers and love

I can see your face reflected

in the dark and shimmering waters

I can see clouds and sky behind you

I can see your beautiful longing

to feel this seamlessness

and I feel your fear of letting go of the belief in thingness

that defines you

for what would happen if you stopped looking for your reflection in the day dream of tomorrow?

what would happen if you could no longer trace your steps upon this path

that no one has ever walked along?

how can you travel from here to there

when there is only this that cannot be named

or captured as it has no sides nor features that can be grasped.

even here and now are names, illusion,

and you 

simply another name

pinned to an empty shadow

dancing in the moonlight

terrified of the dark

when you can no longer find a path or a tomorrow or yourself