mural of solitude

I am a mural of solitude painted on the wind

a breath of autumn sliding into summer

tree tops dance though my silhouette 

sun kisses an echo of my reflection

paint of memory 

clothes not even a shadow

runs down the landscape of dreams

pools in silent caverns

where death has never died

traces of ancient melodies

stir the darkness

and sing these lips

this tongue

this song

that sings of our sublime aloneness

and the lush wetness

of our tears


rain lingers into morning
first cars
long headlights
illuminate the stillness
staccato of sound and silence
punctuate the dark
I am this cry
of unbearable beauty
no one is weeping
it is the song of our aliveness
from within
from without
there is no middle
nor sides
echo has no sound
reflection has no light

wind chased itself across the pavement
covered me with ancient sighs
burned all my edges
swept away my ashes
blown away with the darkness
drowned in shadows
drowned in love
drowned in darkness
drowned in light

nothing was held in the pocket of empty secrets
there was no hand to hold the fire
it burned all and everything
even
itself

I am an empty kiss of echoes
sky written with sky
this vastness has no measurement
without your eyes

I was the clothes of longing
for that all encompassing kiss
now the kiss

is the longing

wind rips diamonds

off rain soaked leaves

colors flow 

flowers explode

in my eyes

this illusion 

a lovers dream

shimmers through me

paints my lines

with shine and shadow

and colors bursting

there is no one walking 

through this flowing dream

memories seem to appear 

and paint my story

but I cannot find 

a place where I am

or where I am not

there is no pure intelligence or god. there is no prior to thought as time is thought created... there is no container... there are no edges... god is another idea that seems to create a thing permeant and unchanging... god is another hand hold. another idea that seems to create an understanding... I see god as a pacifier a substitute to fill in the huge void you sense but cannot grasp, this amazing unknowing that you fear.

What if nothing can be known simply because there are no things?

What if there is no one who can step outside of what is going on, as there are no edges to what is going on, and truly see the whole picture?  

What if there is no whole picture? 

What if the only way to make the physical world knowable would be to divide it up into imaginary parts? 

What if one of those imaginary parts was you? 

What if you were the longing to understand, or know what’s going on, 

The Looking for meaning or purpose or your place in the world, when you are not separate from it?

What if all ‘its’ were made up? 

What if the feeling of lostness 

Of emptiness of unknowing 

Could never be filled with all your imagined ‘knowing’?

What if even this post was simply more words seemingly separating what cannot be split apart, has no edges and is not a thing? 

What if all explanations, all description, all words and concepts just point to more words and concepts, weaving an imaginary web of knowing?  

How can you know that all the seeking and meditating and reading books I did was more significant than all the cooking I did for my loved ones?

crumpled love letters strewn like wildflowers 

blooming 

wilting into autumn and

winters breath

scattering the words

is there a path to this love?

where is it not?

I find only echoes of tears

no one hovers in the shadows

longing for the light

it was only a dream

that there was a girl

a woman

a lover

waiting for the beloved 

it is only a dream

a painted pony

galloping 

across a painted landscape

colors running

through this dream scape of time

of memory 

flowing

down 

a path

to nowhere

near and far

balanced on the rim of the earth

sunrise streams across the sky

where is the distance between you and me

or sun and its light?

where does darkness hide during the day?

you cannot hide in your own shadow

there is no escape from your own light

tip the glass and drink deeply

this song that paints you 

swirls you in its empty glass

marvels at your scintillating colors

and drinks you

it is only words that create the feeling

that there is a you breathing

feeling

drinking...

who holds these vowels in her mouth

savoring the taste of day?

there is no one dancing on the edge of no tomorrow

or singing of life's unutterable majesty

no one is weeping at the beauty

that this is all 

love

What is is that defines you?

Where is the line between you and the wind?

Your skin?

Your thoughts?

Are they your thoughts?

Are these thoughts you?

Are there separate thoughts? 

Is there a little man in there 

That is looking for these answers?

Or are you the looking?

What kind of answers do you expect?

Where did you get gave the idea that there are any answers?

Looking for meaning, for life to make sense, for a purpose, through spirituality or philosophy or science is what defines you.

The believe that there is an understanding to reach is what defines you. 

What would you be without all of these ideas of something other or better or more or next? 

What would you be without all of your ideas about enlightenment or god or purpose or meaning?

What would happen if you realized that there is no understanding, no certainty at all? That no concept or philosophy you have ever read will ever capture this magic that you know is here, that you are a magical illusion that has no words or concepts that is unfathomable that has no solidity whatsoever?

Not even void or emptiness or infinity come close to this greatest intimacy that you have been fending off with words and ideas. 

For enlightenment is the greatest intimacy. 

There is no line between you and the wind.

There is no line between inside and outside.

There is no inside and outside.

It is only these very words, these thoughts that are like razors, which seem to slice up endless sky.

When there are no words left, when there are no concepts left, when there is no more longing to know, to capture the magic 

....it is all magic

and the magic is you

Drifting through the dream as the dream dreams you 

And mountains and clouds and endless sky....

And lovers dancing under a moon lit night...

When all and everything is gone, suddenly all and everything is here, and it all feels like love, a lovers dance of one of two of many of none....

yellow chin 

dandelion dreams

child lies in the grasses

flowing

watching faces in the clouds

form

dissolve

life

flows

imagines 

you

It’s a constant love at first sight

Scent of mountain rain pours down the canyon

Lace of wind and leaves dance through me 

Light and color swoon through me

I am this ballet of wind and leaf and light

Waking...

Bathed in wonder....

Ripped inside out there is no place I am not

Yet there is no place that I am...

I am smitten with this beauty

Watching this dream that I am unfold

Weeping 

I am nothing more than a memory of cloud shadows racing across the dunes

and its a constant

oh my!

I forgot how beautiful you are!

morning sleeps

breath dissolves

into breath

songs of ancient shadows

pool in deep places

echoes of yesteryear

dream this lovers dance

arising with the day 

you may think it is the sun

painting shine and shadow across the landscape

but it is your eyes

that sing this love

I see you dancing on the edge 

a breath of my reflection shimmers

sings of your unutterable beauty

weeping starlight into our eyes

I know this cannot be kissed with words

yet the songs spill out and onto these pages.... 

pieces of love letters broken into notes 

into melodies that seem to draw our lines

music, like love, needs imaginary spaces... 

this is where the dance is

this dance is what we are

we are a love song

echoes across the canyon

a call and answer day dream

drifting through its own shadows

basking in its own light

this dance needs no invitation

there is no one to accept

we are this shimmering water ballet

of you of me of we

this scintillating song of love

sings us onto pages

that were ripped out of the book of time

blown away by beauty 

scattering colors into the dream time waltz 

blooming and fading without pause

this heartbeat of love

closer than your very breath

or your lips or your tongue

closer than this song of sunlight

dancing on the canyon stream

pouring through us

filling me 

emptying me

I am this intoxication

alone

together

we are this dance

there is no other

there is no one dancing under the street light

on a naked evening 

waiting for a kiss

she is simply waltzing with her shadow

streaming across the canyon walls

night pours down the empty streets

erasing the paint of day

what swept through this heart

and took away the fingerprint of time

exploded this love

that had no hands

to hold it

no place 

where it was

or was not

I am starlight dancing 

Moon song as it fades into forest...

The shimmering river crochets me

Into an imaginary dancer of winds  

A singer of forgotten day dreams...

Wind slides through an echo of itself 

And without tender leaves 

There is no song to crash through the horizon

To mix earth and sea and sky...

Swirling reflections dance into 

A love song without beginning or end

Never heard 

Always sung 

Always heard 

Never sung 

how could anyone be broken? 

how could anyone not be beautiful?

What would I be without you? 

Not even this love

wind rips diamonds

off rain soaked leaves

colors flow 

flowers explode

in my eyes

this illusion 

a lovers dream

shimmers through me

paints my lines

with shine and shadow

and colors bursting

there is no one walking 

through this flowing dream

memories seem to appear 

and paint my story

but I cannot find 

a place where I am

or where I am not

There is a sublime sorrow and beauty in loving and missing someone we have never met.... yet have we ever really met another at all?

I am shadows burning at dawn 

The scent of morning mist streaming across the mountains...

Ashes long forgotten 

Empty footfalls that were never filled 

Echoes of echoes of echoes...

I am the imaginary canyon walls that sing my name 

Your name 

Our names 

With wind in wind 

A ballet of light in light 

Breathes the wind in my tears 

And I find myself as this very song 

That sings itself 

And me into the dream 

poems are a paradise 

of words

exploding into nothing

and everything

painting scintillating swirling light

and color

and mountains 

and sky

and love...

this rainbow of infinite things,

a layer of imaginary transparency, dances 

across the sensory field

creating an imaginary inside and outside

a flowing dreamscape 

that has no movement nor non movement 

I hover sweetly between the real and the imaginary

dancing footless on the edge of a feather

between love and nothing at all

The prevailing belief is that seekers think that enlightenment is going to happen to them
and that there is a path to get there
Or a method to attain it
And of course they find teachers who believe that enlightenment happened to them and that they did something to attain it....
Which is just about everyone
I just read something about Ramana  suggesting methods like inquiry
when obviously what happened was quite spontaneous

We are a flowing dictionary 

Endlessly defining itself

Movement of air is wind 

What is the distance between the breeze and my cheek 

Your cheek 

What is the distance between you and me 

And love 

We are this very thought dream 

Some say that they know that they are not the self they think they are 

They are the belief that they are something other better more...

But they are the self they think they are 

All thought is about things 

And there are none...

Just this fabricated world 

The only world we can know 

And the knowing feeling that the known world is illusion 

That beauty and love is illusion 

That illusion is illusion 

How beautiful is this

words are like a spring rain in the desert

softly softly 

kissing beauty into the world

when there is no song

the singer disappears

no one looks for words

poems slide through this heart

catch fire in our eyes

paint the worded world with beauty

there is no silence after the song

or before

stillness and quiet saturate the flow of songs

that does not move or swing without you

from my lips to yours

from my eyes to yours

from our lips and tongue and hearts

I hear only love songs