I am a flowing gown of echoes

Your heart breaks
Falls through its own infinite pieces
Stars fall
Ignite the night
Until all darkness consumes itself
Swallows all ideas of light

Love burns itself
With every touch
Every kiss
Every word
Melts
In this heat
In this conflagration
Of sorrow
Of joy
Of time

Whose heart is not yours?
Where is your heart
But in my chest
Ripped open by love

Whose tears,
Whose eyes are not yours?
But these jewels
That no one owns
Reflecting the universe
Naked unadorned love’s beauty
Streams
Erases all ideas of ownership
All handholds on the edge of the river
All fingertips clinging
Dissolve into this flowing
Burning river of life’s desire
Collapsing all and everything
Flooding into this edgeless ocean
That I am
That you are
That we are

Life dissolving into life
Without a trace
Or unheard melody
Of love’s grand illusion
Listening to itself
Whispering
I love you


feathered moon-glow
melts into morning
softly softly
soaring wings
kiss the air
gently gently
love caresses my slumber
dreams me into the day

evening song
of late falling shadows
swooning into cricket night
a picture show with no edges
strums itself
on a guitar with no strings
only our hearts
beating madly
this love
in love with love
strains out light and dark
and all shades in between
there is no middle
there are no sides
to love
yet love needs hearts to sing its song
I cannot hear it
without you



Morning paints itself in this mind stream

Crickets fade to birdsong as someone awakens and yawns

Gently walls and ceiling pirouette into the morning song

A dance floor arises in this ballet of one of two of many

Of none

Light caresses the room with shadow

A hand appears cradling a cup of tea

Steam lazily rises to kiss its reflection in the window

That was painted shut

Long ago

The images of outside and inside collapsed

Time appeared to die in the catastrophe

Of crashing shadows

Tsunami of winged waving glass

Pierced a broken heart

With love’s magic

No clarity or fog remains

Just empty footfalls echoing

Turning dark into light

Light into dark

And in between the in between

We dance



combing the vastness for words
...vastness a word
far more unthinkable
than infinite suns exploding
bleeding light
and darkness
into the most intimate depths
of intricate spiraling thought dreams
weaving secret places that seem hidden
revealed
with these very words
that paint the sky
and clouds
and shadows racing across the desert
and a lone shadow
leading these footsteps
to the edge of the dream
where you
and me
and infinity
collide

even my shadow burnt on love's sublime pyre

edges singed with blue and gold

left no trace on the sidewalk

wind found no ashes

to dress her slumber

leaf rushes down the empty street

catching the breath of sunset

what is the sound of the evening light

as it melts into dark?

where is this song

without you?

faded roses hang

bathed in pale moon

memories echo

pool in rippling shadows

there is nothing underneath them

nor above

nor in-between

where is the end of sky

where is the end of love

where is the hand the heart to hold this beauty?

plummeting unfathomable depths

reaching the end of infinity

where no one wanders

listening to her story unfold

a call and answer love song

singing itself

this all pervading love 

of not knowing what love is

echoes across the canyon

no one sings it

no one listens

I am simply memories flowing

painting a dream of light waltzing 

with light

space falling

through space

emptiness melting 

into emptiness

reflections of echoes

dissolving into themselves

you protect and hide your pain

like a stone in your heart

to keep that feeling that there is something solid

and unchanging

something which feels real

and never leaves

it longs for release

to escape your rib cage

a million suns exploding 

infinite rainbows shattering

colors falling through colors

one shooting star

across the vault of heaven

and hell

and fading

into dark...

love wrote her name in your heart, once

kissed you with your own lips

pronounced your name with your own voice

it sounded like hers...

you will never forget

you are memory

what would you be without it?

what would you be without this pain

of love and love lost

such beauty has no home

nor slumber

but rests peacefully

ease-fully

embraced in perfect freedom

what would happen if all that pain

all that love

you are terrified to feel

ripped open your chest?

where would your anchor lie?

where would you end

and the world begin?

you are this pain

this fear of love

this longing for love

no one owns it

no one has it

no one wears it

or can shed it

there is nothing under this rawness

you try to hide

I see you 

naked

alone

afraid of the dark

and I love you

I love you

I love you

shhhhhhhhh.....

it is your own voice beckoning

this is your heart song singing

ripping the illusion of armor to shreds

piercing your heart so deeply

you will no longer be able to hide

from your ultimate aloneness

nor this love

If there is the belief in separation it FEELS like there is something solid and unchanging 

Most 'teachers' teach that. 

And Most seekers long to find that 

'True self'

Or 'timeless awareness'

Or 'pure consciousness'

Or 'god' 

As if the self is seen to be made up, the resulting glimpse of this (not even) emptiness is far too scary 

And the blanks are filled in with old or new philosophies...

ANYTHING to stop that feeling of lostness of falling of no safe harbor, ...of not knowing (as self is the assumption of knowing) 

It's simply unbelievable that there is no self and no thing underneath that has a self

Many believe that there are three stages to enlightenment 

Realization of no self 

Realization of unity consciousness 

And realization of god consciousness 

Which is that it is god that glues all this together 

All learned of course 

Seekers are their beliefs about enlightenment 

That there are no things that can be glued together 

Nor one big thing that could be split apart is unthinkable 

My songs can sometimes dispel that certainty 

And introduce a beautiful unknowing

Which some resonate with 

Some not

If there is fear, you are fear

 there is no you separate from this fear.

That is why you cannot get away from it.

There is really no self to identify with 

There is nothing separate or apart from the illusion of self that can identify with it.  

No one has belief,

 no one has illusion.

we are belief 

we are illusion 

Of course, when even considering ideas like 

there are no things... 

there are no separate events 

there is no cause and effect...

there is no self

there are no others...

That would mean that everyone you love 

and all you have loved 

Your beautiful wife 

your beautiful daughter

Your parents grandparents 

all your friends 

all your favorite things 

all your beautiful memories

your entire life would be illusory!

What a terrible loss! 

That is why awakening feels like dying!

If there is no self then there is no personal volition 

there is no will

There is no one who has control in this life

All of your efforts have been in vain

Your attempts to attain enlightenment and your trying to not try

There is no thinker of thought 

therefore there is no controller of thought

There is no feeler of emotion therefore there is no controller of emotion

There is no doer of action 

therefore there is no controller of action

This would mean that life does it self and that you are powerless 

however, when it’s seeing that there is no self to be powerless 

this does not seem so scary...

And truly if they were a thinker of thoughts and a controller of them 

then you would probably have the thoughts you would like 

to have intelligent or witty or creative thoughts

Same with emotion 

if there were a controller of emotion you would like to have only the feelings you like 

to have fuzzy warm loving feelings and not the ones that you have been taught to fear

And certainly if there were a controller of life

Well then life probably would’ve turned out a little bit different by now wouldn’t it?

And if there were a chooser, well,  perhaps you would not have chosen illness...

And if it feels like you are the chooser can you choose to stop feeling like a chooser?

But if life truly happened all by itself

 then there would be no meaning or non-meaning 

no purpose or non-purpose 

nothing called enlightenment or Endarkenment

 no goal to attain 

no special place to be....

All your ideas of solidity 

of permanence 

of going somewhere 

Having purpose 

all the ideas that you have about yourself that you don’t like 

all the ideas that you have about yourself that you like

every idea 

every thing that you think you are, and are not are all made up....

Everyone knows this somewhere 

this slipperiness 

this insubstantial nature of things 

of life as it seems to appear 

yet this is very scary and often painful as it does not go along with the beliefs that you are....

All parameters of who you think you are 

And what you are not 

Are simply learned ideas

You are is real is the characters in last nights dream.

You exist only as this imaginary persona

As this mask 

No one wears it 

The ego is a flowing imaginary image 

It does not do, or not do, anything or nothing.

It seems to be an imaginary center around which the dream of separate things and events swirls

It is the brain which creates this imaginary world of separate things and events and selves using shared learned words and concepts, and it is this imaginary conceptual world that we exist in. Most brains believe this imaginary world is reality. Some brains have seen through their own charade, so to speak, and realize that all thingness, all separation is imaginary... these people whose brains have shifted live beautifully balanced between the actual physical world and the imaginary... dancing on the edge of a feather between love and nothing at all.

The known world, the objectified dream of separation, is conceptual ...the physical world exists yet it is completely unknowable except through concepts. 

Fear of actual threats to the body help keep the physical organism alive

Fear of imaginary things may be the driving force for some selves but certainly not all.

I would say that all belief is accompanied by hope and fear 

hope that it’s true and fear that it’s not, 

or hope that it’s not true and fear that it is

So all belief is never actually really believed unless it’s belief in the physical world

We are this thought stream

No one has it 

there is no outside to it 

as outside and inside are created by thought

there’s no before or after thought 

as before and after are thought created

Enlightenment happens when the brain basically no longer believes in the dream of separation that itself is painting

There is no more feeling of there being separate things or events or selves or others or clouds or mountains or sky or hands or pockets or tears or rainbows....

Many believe that enlightenment is sitting through the illusion of self 

but that is only part of it

And most when the self is seen to be imaginary, fill in that huge emptiness with other learned concepts, like true self or awareness or consciousness or God

If there is fear then that is the brilliant intensity of life living itself 

Full on 

It is the actual immediate lived reality

Life always is whatever it looks and feels like

fear is beautiful 

fear of fear is beautiful 

The feeling that fear is wrong 

is also beautiful

Investigating fear won’t make it go away, it’ll just make you feel more separate from it

I read Suzanne Segel’s book.

After the feeling and belief in self completely fell away she lived in constant fear for 12 years before the belief in separation and the feeling of all separation vanished

She realized there was nothing wrong with fear, there is no need to try to get rid of it, as all trying or trying not to try to investigate it will just make it feel like there is a you and something called fear.

I am trying to say that fear is not a block to living life full on and that there is nothing ever right or wrong with life as it seems to appear.

fear and fearlessness, even the feeling that it is wrong arises utterly spontaneously... all of life does... 

as there is no chooser of thought or belief or feeling or action how could there possibly be a right or wrong thought or feeling or belief or action? as there is no doer or thinker or feeler... right and wrong are completely made up, like you ...

names have lost all feeling of solidity

all echoes of meaning

and non meaning

wind dissolving into wind

I hear my name

I say yours

I hold them in my mouth

and listen for meaning

its like hearing a foreign language

with no reference point

or watching photos develop over other pictures

blooming and dissolving 

images sliding through each other

they have no center

nor sides

there is no place from which to view them

all words are like that now

vibrations rippling

beautiful light dancing on an edgeless sea

and what is left 

when there are no sails to catch the wind

when there is no direction

nor shore to reach

not even an empty space

that memory tries to fill

with faces I have loved

as meaningless as this carpet of rippling shadows

and light

flowing through my reflection

that has no source 

there is a beauty in this sensuous lostness

when there is no one to be lost

some may call it bliss

I like to call it love

love of everything

love of nothing

there is no in between

the dawn and dusk

day into night

night into day

the bird feeders are empty

yet I can hear them singing in the plum trees

I call it love but it is simply a name rushing down the streets of time like images in yesterday’s mirror 

Burning tumble weeds spark in the night 

pieces break off and shatter the windows of the empty storefronts 

Yesterdays reflection is neither caught nor held

There is no mirror 

Just pools of echoes

as you walk along this path

with no end in sight

not knowing what you seek

there may be a collision of never and forever

as space and emptiness slide through each other

erasing all sides

and the middle

the horizon is lost as sea crashes into sky

rips the fabric of your universe

into ribbons of endless mirrors

reflecting nothing 

as well as all things

as they explode 

and implode

all and everything dissolve....

the very ground upon which you danced

collapses

there is falling

and falling

and falling

until the falling is falling

and there is no place to land

and no one falling

I am a flowing gown of echoes

A river of tears

Of cold mountain winds rushing down the canyon

Streaming through the tall pines

Trembling needles pierced with sky

Dancing in the cottonwoods

Leaving autumn leaves floating

Golden carpet softly sweeping into piles 

Wind pools silently in this desert mirage

Shimmering reflections of not even nothing 

Mirroring love’s reflection 

Soaring without wings

Sky letters written with sky

Unwrap sky

Horizon unfolds 

Falls gently into ribbons of highway

Undulating across the map

Torn into shreds

By hot desert winds

All my love letters left 

An un-answered echo

Burnt the hands 

And the heart 

That wrote them 

Starlight consumed the edges of my shadow

After love ate the inside and outside 

Moon devoured the rest

Crumpled dreams lay deserted on the side of the path 

that time forgot

When it went looking for the future 

And found it’s own footsteps

Filling with sky

Overflowing onto my feet

As the stars emerged from their shadows

I became lost in love’s reflection 

I am this dance of mirrors

A wind ballet of wind in wind

You cannot hold the name wind in your mouth

Nor can you grasp it 

It exists only in this dance

This word ballet 

That has no outside 

Nor inside 

Tangled sweetly in love’s echo 

We dance

Falling into the abyss of love

gazing into my reflection
trying to see what is underneath
my own gaze
trying to peer
behind the mirror
the searing gaze of love
melted all ideas of love
into a sea of primordial moon glow
naked in the summer sun

no one wears this nakedness
these echoes of echoes
reverberating through the vastness
there is no solidity to be found
nor emptiness to dance

lost as the looking
the watcher fell through herself
no one was left
not even an empty shadow
whirling down main street
dancing with her reflection in the darkened windows
playing in the carpet of reflections
splashing in the pools of echoes
and the street lights shimmering

edgeless beauty flows through me as me
I soar as this sea of magic pours into itself
featherless
wingless
skinless...
wind in wind
sky in sky
space in space
emptiness in emptiness

spinning dancing radiance
spiraling inward and outward
dissolving all sides
the middle slides into itself
and disappears
where are the stories written without letters or words
or sounds
...or silence

all of life shimmers in the tree tops dancing
in the wild winds singing
through these words the magic of love sings
all words write this story
this fairy tale of love
is that we are each other's stories
I do not exist alone
we emerge in the spinning of tales
sung by no one
sung by everyone
blooming and wilting
caressing and forming us
from the inside and out
these lines tell our stories
we do not exist without them
we are them

every word paints this dream time love song
love is inescapable
yet it is not even nothing
without these very words

my story your story
whose story is not beautiful?
I am a flowing tapestry of all the stories
ever heard and yet to be sung
or murmured late at night
from crickets hidden in the garden
feasting on fallen leaves
singing the stories of wind and trees and the growing darkness
shadows falling into their own shadows
our delicate bodies
and the tender wetness of our eyes
all singing
I love you


the great mystery you long to understand
to touch to feel to caress...
to have it caress you
is the edge-less-ness....
that cannot be found or touched or understood
it is everything and nothing
as there are no things
yet everything is included...

you sense this magic
for it is everywhere
and nowhere
it cannot be attained
or grasped
as there is no one separate from it
to reach it or hold it...
there are no 'its'

trying to grasp what has no words
with words
vowels held in your mouth
feeling the roundness slipping out...
the staccato of consonants rupturing
between the lips and tongue
seemingly capturing space
throwing lassos around the sun
slicing the sky into pieces
heaven raining through the cracks
flowers sprouting through the sidewalk

there is no pause to look for
no prior to words
nor after
there is no inside or outside to this love song
that sings itself

looking for the pause creates a looker
trying to peer under the alphabet you might find a nothing
which is a thing...
what is not even nothing?
what is emptiness
after you pour away the emptiness
what is love
beyond all ideas of love?

when all ideas are seen to be ideas
when all words are seen to be imaginary bites of sky
there is no one to look
under the words
no one to be free or bound by words
no one to escape the dream
as you are a fairy tale character
an imaginary center
a hologram
a magician's tale
writing itself
with learned shared words...

these words cannot speak of words
or wordlessness
but you know this magic that lies between the lines
you feel it deeply
yet fear it
for when there are no lines
when the song disappears
there is no you
no song
nor love

it is the unknowability of love
which we love
the unknowability of beauty
that is beautiful
the ungraspable nature of life
that is its magic
but you know that


seems I cry a lot since the shift... a friend enters the room and I weep at her beauty... it is like seeing her for the first time... but it is usually silent tear free weeping.... then she was telling me about her friend who is dying... I'm weeping hot tears...

my husband and I are watching a video on John Lennon..... weeping at the beauty, the magic of life and love... they show a village getting bombed... weeping....


....ahhhh the beauty of love and love lost, and the shadows flowing ... light into dark, dark into light... this streaming kaleidoscopic sound and light show ...this love ballet of this and that ... surreal and unreal at the same time....

our sublime humanness.... the knowing that there is no one choosing thought or feeling or belief or action,,,, no thinker no feeler no believer no actor, no conductor ...

we are all simply flowing thought dreams of belief and memory and preference and thought,,, all seemingly referencing a self, a center.... we are center less jewels who's spinning galaxies sometimes almost touch...

that we can never actually touch another is sorrowfully sublime... for when we get closer, our lines dissolve and we disappear... how I love falling into and through you... the swoon of being in love as love through love...

....there is simply nothing here... no one weeping ...no one singing... the huge marvelousness of it all.... no matter what it looks or feels like ...this blooming wilting miracle of life doing itself just like this....



wind rushes and swirls through the tall mountain pines
sweeps itself away
nothing is left
not even an echo
of wind magic
to whisper your name
or wave the long grasses
into a symphony of light and dark
swimming across the earth
all the way to the horizon
drowning in sky
such elegance of sound and silence
the lushness of words
pouring through themselves
without beginning or end
who would know
if they stopped
unless they started again?

words cascade into stories
weave an enchantment
within which someone seems to hover
in between the sensuousness
of love
and nothing at all
the love of everything
and nothing
suspends belief in words
yet disbelief is the song as well

there are no edges to this love song
it sings itself
tumbling whirling softly kissing color and shape
and sound
into this very world
that moves and flows in you
through you
as you

I watch your struggle to change or stop thought
or think in a 'correct manner'
or feel a certain 'right' way
or act more compassionate
or become a 'better' person
or get rid of the self
all based on the belief that there is a you
and a better you somewhere
this imaginary goal of perfection
is what you are

to me you are beyond perfect
including all your attempts to attain perfection
and I weep at your beauty
and this unfathomable beauty of love
it seems to form me and erase me
for without you
without this love
I am nothing at all

if you say 'I love you'
or 'you're beautiful'
all I can see is your unbearable beauty
for here
there is not even nothing
I am the echo of your reflection
weeping


and who is singing these words that bloom inside your skull?
who listens to this thunder that cracks the sky into pieces?
it is the song of the morning mists dissolving
the end of cricket song
and moonlight's caress of the darkness
the end of the night time dream
and the start of the day dream
bathing in the summer sun

sparrows and finches come to the feeders
robins perch on the rim of the ponds
singing a song I have heard since I was very small
some doves swoop into the yard
some of them stay on the tall wires
singing a song of my childhood
tires roll down main street
like ocean waves in the desert
trees bend and sway
all a flying carpet of shadows
and light
a magic show
this illusion of this and that
spontaneously appears

an explosion of sound
these words that seem to paint the day
and create a line between birth and death
morning and night
here and there
sound and silence
you and me

you cannot catch this ever arising
ever disappearing
fleeting momentary
your trying to grasp it
is it

that there must be something more
an answer to the mystery
a key to unlock the magic
is magical isn't it?
your sense that there is something to get
and someone to get it
arises from the feeling that there is something solid
and unchanging inside the swirling
but is there?
is there really anything other
better
more
or next?
have you ever found anything other than life as it seems to appear?

how could there be a wrong or right feeling
or thought
or belief
or action
if there really is no one separate from what is going on?
have you ever found that unchanging someone or thing?
or are you simply thought and feeling
flowing
with no source nor endpoint
nor middle ground on which to stand?

there is no path to where you are
when you are not
all ideas of more other better and next
are ideas
like you
what would happen if it were realized that this was it
always
just as it seems to appear
what ever this looks or feels like?

what if there were no next?
what if thoughts about a never arising next
were just that...
thought dreams?
what if thoughts about what you are
and what you are not
were just that
thoughts?

what if there were no separate thoughts?
can you tell when the beginning or end to a thought occurs?
...maybe you cannot because you are
this flowing fleeting thought dream
that has no movement nor non movement
no inside nor outside
no before thought or after
as all ideas of time dimension causality
all concepts of measurement
were made up
just like you?


Self is the thought stream believed, and the corresponding FELT sense of separation.... of separate things and separate moments and events...
You are not the thinker, there is none. You are the thought stream and the belief in it...
If you were the thinker and chooser of thought you would be able to choose them, yes? If there were a feeler of emotion you would be able to choose how to feel... If there were a conductor of life, perhaps life would be a bit different by now, yes?


where is the edge of the dream
as it slides down the rainbow
and breathes you
sings you
you are its light and color streaming across the vastness
of unknown worlds and stars and suns
and their absence

we are trails of emptiness
that leave no wake
or shadow
sky exploding into sky

the enchantment of love
exhales you
and all the known world
where all lines are imaginary
lassos around a piece of sky
falling shards of shattered mirrors
all reflecting your face
that you cannot see

hollow dreams of moonlight dancing
suspended in between light and shadow
reflected light of a million forgotten suns
gathers and swirls into this dreamtime ballet
waltzing with its own echo
in love as love through love
we emerge as the dance

a chorus of everyones voice
pouring from a nautilus shell
sounds like infinite oceans
breathing
sounds like endless stars
falling
sounds like the unfathomable wondrousness of love
singing


Long arm of light

Reaches Into the canyon

Soft blush of morning

Paints your tenderness

With love’s reflection

What is far

What is near

When there is no middle nor edge

Who sings the sky

And wind

And our sublime aloneness...

This ache for an echo

Is love

There are no shadows

In a world without lines

No music

In a world without love

This song sings itself

Pours down the canyon it paints

Falls through it own melody



we are rippling melodies of silence
breathing
inseparable from the song
we are echoes of memories
the lilting dance of a leaf
falling
after the wind has passed

the slow drift of warmth
as morning pours through the canyon
undertones swirl through overtones
love's heart magic
sings itself
pierces you with its resonance
every word pulses with this knowing
that all words are assumptions
waltzing with their own reflections
spiraling daydreams
cannot catch your hovering beauty
love held in its own hands
sky suspended in sky

the sensuousness of wind
swirling through wind
kissing our tenderness
drying our tears

this heartbeat of love
pours through rhythmless rhythms
unfathomable depths of darkness
explode into a million suns
space falls through space
clouds begin to form and dissolve
sun weeps
bathing in its own warmth
love weeps
at its own tender beauty
we weep
knowing the unfathomable nature of love


there is no one playing a part,,,we exist only as imaginary personas, masks... this is not pre written, life does itself... there is no source or doer or maker of life...

there is no other universe... but what people intuit and long for... this mystery... is really the sublime unknowability of all this...

they long to capture to understand.. when there are no separate things to put together into some kind of understanding.. and no one to do so
and all trying to capture the magic... is magic
yet creates the feeling of a someone... and a goal...


Everyone knows of this seamlessness in an intuited way
Deep down...

unicity is intuited, and conventional knowledge is conceptual.
Made of separate things and events
Putting them together into compositions that seem to create a feeling of completeness or understanding
Seekers long to capture or create what is already the case
Unicity or seamlessness or wholeness and it is very painful
All these are leaned concepts
The looking simply spirals into a beautiful story of unrequited love...
with a central character hunting for what they already know, but cannot face ....as it is too scary...
for if there were no things, there would be no them
no others...
all they have loved simply imaginary personas... tears... just too much sorrow....

which becomes a sublime sorrow and a love beyond all ideas of love...

simply put the magic they seek is already here
as there is no here nor there
it is already you
although there is no you
nor me
nor love...




when this is discovered... all seeking stops
...love sings in your own voice
'I love you
I've missed you
welcome home'


Self is the thought stream believed, and the corresponding FELT sense of separation.... of separate things and separate moments and events...
You are not the thinker, there is none. You are the thought stream and the belief in it...
If you were the thinker and chooser of thought you would be able to choose them, yes? If there were a feeler of emotion you would be able to choose how to feel... If there were a conductor of life, perhaps life would be a bit different by now, yes?


Seekers are the looking for certainty
knowing deep down there is none
That there is not even Nothing to be solid and stable and fixed
No hand holds whatsoever
No god
No source
No awareness
No consciousness
No self
No true self
No ground of being
No one to fall
No where to land
....no safe place in a storm
No where to hide from this feeling of unease

Unknowing is disquieting
when there is the belief that what’s going on can be known
and captured and understood
creates a painful conflict with the feeling that nothing can be known
That nothing can be done to know
and that there is no one to know...
And no one to do or not do anything or nothing to realize that



tall white clouds pour down the canyon
growling black ones follow
folding light into dark
dark into light

wind swept
canyon breathes
mountain air
pours into the hot desert

loosens ends of my hair
tears silken spider webs
cottonwood leaves tossing
falling
falling
swirling dancing
wings
illumined by the last rays of morning
shine and shadow playing
drifting down the trail
through my feet
my breath
my heart
this song

whorls and swirl of wind
mark my fingertips
fading as I age
this song fades
as soon as it is written
paints a dream of wind
as it flows through itself

life dances
in us as us though us
no one writes this song
it sings itself
with every word
that breathes us
phantom shadows
dancing in each other's light
each other's love

we are echoes of wind
tides
rising and falling
on a shoreless sea of dreams


the beauty is the knowing that we cannot know what beauty is... such love for not knowing what love is... such a sublime breathtaking wondrousness that we are amazed at amazement... the unspeakable unfathomable nature of this aliveness... we cannot get away from it or outside of it to capture it or embrace it with words... as we are this beauty this love this aliveness ... we can never see our own beauty... we do not exist without each other.... when you say I love you, you're beautiful there is simply nothing here... or there... simply shimmering reflections... echoes singing... we can never touch as it is our imaginary lines that define us... as without them we disappear into each other... I love you is an echo shimmering dancing with its own reflection

earthen silken silence

of clouds and sky and seamless morning

of wind and trees and waving grasses

of rain and tears and the porch light dripping

my husband sawing on the back porch

the click of the keys of my laptop

tires through the puddles

sky swims in its reflection

waves of sorrow and joy rippling

sing the song of morning

bursting into bloom

just as it wilts

the song of love and love lost

breathes the morning into beauty

and weaves us into love's gentle caress 

our hands our feet our delicate fingertips

our tender hearts

the wetness of our eyes 

our breath our hearts our love

meet in this song 

where we can never touch

but dance 

in love as love through love

life dances us into it's song

by singing itself

just like this

Words echo in my chest

Color the sound of moonlight dancing

Sweep the beaches where no one wanders

Or listens to love songs from empty shells

She no longer waits for her long lost lover

Lost as the love song of no tomorrow

Echoing in this heart

That no one wears

Words sign the ocean with waves 

Of sorrow and wonder and joy

Sing primordial songs 

That no one hears

But everyone feels 

Weaving deeply as the grain in wood

Signs her name with indecipherable clarity

Light dances on water 

Flowing in formless patterns

Their stories can never be told...

But everyone knows them 

We are these stories 

Of love and love lost 

And the ageless beauty of death

These love songs etch eons of rivers into canyons 

And taste the saltiness

Of sea and wind and tears

Wind has no time

It’s song is the rivers laughing 

Tall pines shimmering

There is no before or after

Only the song of our hearts 

No one sings alone

I am your echo

And you are mine 

We dance 

Step-less

As dreams of wonderment 

Exploding and imploding 

Greater than infinite 

Closer than intimate

Yet no song can touch it’s shadow

Afterimages with no source

Resonate these heart strings

No one plucked or stroked them

We are the music 

The chorus 

Of one of two of many 

Of none 

Moonlight floats on the surface

Peers into its reflection 

Thoughts are echoes 

In a dream 

of a dream 

of a dream

I don’t want your naked heart

I don’t need to see it or hear of it 

I know it always

as it is not yours or mine

Raw naked unadorned 

We dance as silvery moonlight

On the beach of no tomorrow 

No one resides within this dream 

Or swims down this river of thought

Of love 

Of blood

Pouring down the streets

Floodlight of shadows

Dance with their reflections

Night swallows darkness

Pouring light into a paper cup

Words adorn the edges

That no one can read

Somehow our lips mouth the words 

As we all drink deeply

We are this unquenchable thirst 

Written in between never and forever

The middle collapses

Notes slide off the staves

Pages dissolve into music

Words condense into breath

Into sound 

Into silence

Endless seas of echoes 

Of echoes 

Of echoes 

Of echoes 

Bathed in moonlight’s gaze

Shimmering without time or place

Eternity slid down the rainbow 

And drowned in my tears

Tomorrow has no pockets

No place to hide itself

No promises to fulfill 

Hope lost her dance card 

And took the last train 

To an imaginary place called home 

The past is memory flowing 

No one stands on the banks

Gazing at her reflection 

I am just an echo

Dissolving into itself...

Popping up on newsfeed often is a reminder of how long I’ve been friends with someone 

And it always seems weird 

I can never remember not loving that person!

As there is no longer the belief or a feeling of an unchanging thing or self..

I am simply not even nothing 

The flowing ever emerging momentary...

Edgeless 

Seamless 

Beautiful 

Love

Singing nakedly 

Unabashedly

This love that sings me

Breathes oceans and clouds and endless skies

Words are love's heartbeat

You can hear them echo-locate

An imaginary center

Around which all and everything swirl

There is no one to animate 

This illusion of love 

Wind soars through wind

Not even breath remains 

Through the lens of this and that 

There is no one looking

No one to know or not

Simply this sublime beauty of unknowing 

Cricket song floats 

In ocean of moon

Darkness breathes 

The song of midnight

Suspended as love in love

I am the caress of night

Falling through the hush

Of yesterday’s golden sunset

Bathing in this sublime emptiness  

Of no tomorrow  

Pirouette of sky spins into endless skies blossoming

Weaving and unweaving shadows of lace

Sky needs no scaffold nor ropes upon which to hang

No pattern nor dance steps are written 

For the filigree of tree tops

To sway gently with the song of moon

Bathing the garden in the flowing carpet of light and shadow

Revealing the passion play

Of love kissing itself

From the inside out

Through our lips 

Life sings itself

Beneath autumn leaves

The scent of yesterday

Hides 

From shadows 

And light 

It is only a daydream 

Buried in the night

Where no one slumbers

Or dreams of edgeless skies

my lips move 

in this river of breath

what cannot be said seems to soar through the imaginary gap of silence and sound

trembles on the edge of the known and the imagined

blends them into this very kiss

that tastes the winged flames of desire

and melts my mouth with my own sensuousness

it is love without names

it is love without number

it is love beyond the reach of words

or song

singing itself through my lips

that have been eviscerated of all words

love has plummeted through all ideas of love 

I am consumed by the longing to sing of love

to all lovers

to all I have ever loved

and will love

and it is you

to whom I sing

and this singing

kisses us both 

into being

for what are we but this lover's dance

falling into the abyss of love