I am the perfume of a flower that never bloomed

how empty the moon

night

without crickets

wind that was not there
blew away the dark
ignited embers of day
unwrapped the prisms of your eyes
unleashing color
and sound
into this ballet of echoes ever blooming
...ever wilting
petals of desert flowers
pressed into a flowing rosary
there is no prayer that will halt or capture
this shimmering mirage
thin white fingers of clouds
flow through the desert dream
wind does not push them
they do not move
or exist
without thought

in this death of yesterdays
and all tomorrows
stars lost their handholds
as there was no night to cling to
and no empty hand to grasp the flowing
this magician's dream coat
has no dreamer
all is sourceless reflections
spinning the day dream
as well as the night dream
this watercolored magnificence
unties the shadows
and light
collapses into itself
leaving not a breath
or ripple
of wind

day melts into dusk

hovers on the horizon

ripped with rain

architecture of trees

holding up the sky

and stars blooming

lace my window

swirling watercolor

wetness slides into wetness

dark into dark

I am a flowing reflection

on a mirror without sides

day sleeps in the heart of night

no one awakens from this echo land dream

sailing shadows leak into light

rustling leaves in autumn wind

night nestles under wings of dawn

Self is belief in imaginary separation, the dream of belief in the dream. As human beings life is full of deep deep despair and suffering and unimaginable joy. It is exceedingly painful to believe in the dream of separation, yet not believing it is the dream as well. Trying to change or get rid of or get out of the dream is a most painful part of the dream, yet the dream character often spends most of 'their life' in this conundrum, solidifying their imaginary walls by trying to erase them, seemingly blocking out the light, and the love that is always there... 

but there is no darkness to erase, no hand nor heart to capture light or love...

It is knowing that as imaginary characters we all share this humanness... of great despair and joy, and the knowing of our ultimate aloneness that brings great compassion, and an unconditional love. These feelings often begin to arise as we share these great sorrows of illness and death.

Awakening is not the end of joy and sorrow and love... it is a merging of the sea and sky and earth, of up and down and in-between, of time and timelessness, of all ends and beginnings...

and yet somehow it is the ever blooming ever wilting kiss within a kiss of loving deeply, unashamedly, the whole shaboogie. 

We get to feel it all, all the joy all the pain...

When you suffer, I suffer.

I am this cascade of thought

memories of long trails of geese

heading south

heading north

what is up

what is down

is there an in between?

this vacancy cannot find itself

nothing can be lost 

or found

slipping over the edge there are no edges to be found

time lost its shadow

as it fell into a song

I can no longer find

my lips and teeth and tongue

mouth the words

the roundness of vowels

tumble onto this page

scattered among the consonants

like flesh on bones

the dance begins 

golden finches carry morning into the garden

colors slide into fallen leaves

perfectly formed

as they are crumpled

under the last

falling leaves

wind sighs 

it's lonely dance

beckons the autumn moon

no one leads and no one follows

elegant shadows of naked trees

spin and twirl on the bedroom floor

edgeless silhouette of light in light

basks in its own reflection

there is no center nor edge to this dream of waltzing shadows

nor source of light

only the magical prism of your eyes

explode this rainbow wonder

and paint beauty into a flowing water color dream scape

thought forms and embraces you from the inside and out, 

an imaginary dancer

of wind

in wind

this silence beyond imagination is always singing

beckoning you to dance

it has no words

yet is every word

weaving horsetails into wind

who is it that runs naked through the fields?

elegant 

the rough seas

battering tall cliffs

into lace

falling

sea foam

clouds

and wind

comb the beaches

for tide pools

to admire their reflection

passing by

fingerprint of time

lost its delicate tracery

wind blown clouds

dissolve

into their own echos

sky breathes

its empty breath

sucks you in

and you never return

you were never more

or less

substantial

than yesterday's skies

There is a feeling of beyond freedom or bondage as it’s noticed more and more that life... Thought happens all by itself. 

A noticing that ‘before’ (recognizing this is a story) there was an effort to control... perpetuating the painful yet comfortable illusion of a controller...

That all of this self arises and self erases simultaneously... 

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Without time or non time...

Without a source.......

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

Not appearing out of anything or emptiness or anywhere 

There is no anywhere or nowhere...

Nor any things 

Nor non things.....

There is no need to have a thing or someone recognizing this....

It is evident as itself 

It simply is

Without being or not being so

It is 

....of itself so....

All of a piece without edges

Echoes of echoes of echoes...

Reflections of reflections of reflections

No space to be filled 

No emptiness to be filled 

No thing to be full 

Or empty 

This flowing thought dream continues 

How marvelously 

Without movement or non movement 

It is no longer believed 

There is no believer....

Tosses and turns into the swirls of your fingertips 

The waves on the sea...

The wind blowing through the dead leaves still hanging from the trees 

A few seem to be caught and dance with the dawn as they float 

Lovingly

Kissing the naked earth

Waiting for the neighbor kids to joyfully shuffle their feet through the autumn splendor on their way to school....

Yes 

A story

All is

The story of knowing you and all you have ever loved is a beautiful heartbreaking fairytale....

It just feels like sky pouring into sky, space pouring into space, light pouring into light, emptiness pouring into emptiness. But there is no light, nor space, nor emptiness. This dream does not arise from no-thingness; it does not arise from emptiness. it is emptiness itself, and it cannot be captured or held...this is all illusion. Illusion is illusion, magnificent and wondrous beyond measure. 

Wow! 

words like

stars 

strewn across the vault of sky

beyond which

there is more beyond

painted by words

that seem to form patterns

and stories

of lonesome lovers who try to escape their story

and their brilliance

scorning love

or longing for it

we are the dreams of lovers

starlight

dancing

ghost light sweeps across the canyon

naked trees paint empty skies

suspended as this very hush

wild 

abandon

dances

river of forever pours into never

slides along

twirling moonlight

into memories

of forgotten shadows

melting into their own light

we seem to stand on the banks

of life

wishing to fall in

but we have never been separate from the river

there is no one to be apart or to merge with the flowing

we exist as the imaginary banks

and as these lines

we can never meet

as the river

we are never separate

imaginary separation... a prism of unthinkable beauty separating an 'inside' and an 'outside'.... obvious aliveness ....dancing with its reflection... an echo's dream... where no things can be found.. yet all things seem to appear.... knowing not how this is known... as there is no feeling of a know-er, or a feel-er... or a someone who is in utter awe... it feels like a love dream ballet.... without a dance floor or curtains, space without space... breathing aching touching its own aliveness... a kiss without lips....

wet in wet in wet in wet

love dances with its own echo... and no edges to be found in this kiss that stops time as it erases itself ...lost in the blue of a never arising horizon

last cricket fades into autumn moon

feathered hands of summer grasses

floating

acres of yesterdays are buried under the shadows

clouds blossom and tumble into the silver river

rippling waters dissolve their empty reflection

who hung her heart on the naked trees

while she searched for her own reflection?

trails of memory led nowhere

echoes of love filled the canyon 

and died

her path collapsed under the lightness of no tomorrow

untraceable

life pirouettes into itself 

wind slips though it’s own lips

suspended in morning light

silently 

the canyon’s embrace

exhales into desert sands 

river flows into its own echo

boundless

ocean of love

pours into itself 

time lost its heartbeat

as its shadow danced in the dark

noon fell through midnight

a million shooting stars

dissolved into their own light 

where are the fingers that cannot touch

where are the lips that cannot kiss

there is no heart that can hold

all

this

love

without sound or silence

echoes shimmer

moon sinks into its own light

reflection without a face

glimpses its own countenance

tears have no source

all is a fountain of measureless treasure

unfathomable

this vast

vast

spaciousness

without space

ricocheting waves of wet

in wet

in wet

in wet

there is no surface

or bottom

or shore

all is in

without an inside

there is nothing but this

ocean of love

I am the perfume of a flower that never bloomed