Elegant fingers of moon
Reach through December trees
Pool in the silent garden
Song of night
Reflects your beauty
Hidden only
To you
This cannot be kissed
yet the kissing
is it
moon lit dreams slide into
long winter morning still
dark
my lamp hovers in the window
my face swims in
upside down shadows
fingertips find the keys
eyes find the lines and squiggles
songs pour from these lines
drenching main street
with reflections
no one drowns in this love
that has no place or time
or depth
my husband brings me hot tea
fingers know how hard to grasp
mouth knows how to sip
the warmth
lips know how to kiss
love knows how to love
I have had the privilege to talk and laugh and cry copiously with a few people from the day they are diagnosed until right before they die...
all virtually....
reflections slide through liquid mirrors
melodies of love without words
expressed in every word
we are this touching...
no one exists alone
life is this very intimacy
the first and last breath
wind inseparable from wind
without shape
or shadow
a ballet of sky
in sky
time collapses
when mirrors have no sides
falling into and through each other
lost and found
in
this
very
touch
we are these songs
from the first word
until the last
beginnings and endings
are words...
like life
...like love
this symphony of life
cannot find itself
it cannot separate itself
from the music
that it is
the very trying
is its apparent movement
only in the notes that seem separate
sung apart
and together
....infinite intervals
...infinite sounds
interspersed with silence
does the music appear
to hear itself
can you hear your beautiful voice
in this chorus of one?
I need your unique song
to ricochet rainbows
into your eyes
and see my colors
which are not mine
flow into this symphony
of one
of two
of many
of none
words dissolve into themselves
leave no shadows
nor echoes...
nor waves
in this ocean of love
that has no water
yet is wet
that has no love
yet is love
footprint of time
painted with dark in dark
water in water
wet in wet
I was the longing for rainbows
and a pocket to hold them
midnight blossoms
headlights streaming
cloud drenched hills
my heart wears a necklace of homeless songs
words are sparkling jewels
dancing reflections
constellations of memories
that paint the day
and a dark that can never be penetrated with shadows
but lives in its waltz with light
we are the songs of millions
of all the poets
that ever were
and will ever be
we are every broken heart
and every trembling hand
...reaching out
every smile
and every tear
every song that was heard by many
and every song that was heard by none
infinite permutations of lace wing-ed light
dissolve into their own flowing patterns
wordless love melts into its own embrace
what did I long for my entire life?
not knowing I was the longing... it was love pure and simple...
the end to the feeling of edges... of hardness... longing for softness of water flowing through water...
...currents of warmth flowing through an already sunny day... basking in colors... and light... and dark shadows hiding underneath the trees... with wisps of light caressing my face
....love caressing my face... life caressing me softly...
the knowing of this unfathomable beauty without needing to understand...
the knowing of this love which I knew just had to be here... looking for it under every rock, in every song, every word, searching the galaxy for the galaxy...
behind the mirror there were beautiful reflections that I could not see but felt...
this love has no words yet it is all words... for it is in the eyes that love resides
it is the wetness of our eyes that reflect love's beauty
...ya know when you have just that look with someone... stranger or lover....
they know...
just for a moment...
that life is precious and love is present and there is no separation...
and it is all
...beautiful...
even the sorrow...
the pain...
eternity collapses into itself...
one look...
one heart... one love...
it is a peace, neither happy nor sad, yet it is not nothing... the heartbeat of love ... thrump... thrump... thrump.... the imaginary separation of voices in this infinite chorus of love
It may feel that love can separate us... or join us... but there is no one to be separate or to feel this love
there is nothing in-between no sides...
I am the child the oldster the woman... like infinite photographs ... snapshots of timelessness.... shuffled into a deck with infinite hands... a player piano in an open field... wind dancing....
I am intoxicated gobsmacked with this unknowing... that feels like love... like, well, a sublime feeling of edgeless-ness.....
we have never been separate... it was in the looking for connections that formed our heart strings
I watch my fingers strum the strings of an instrument so vast that we are its song
we are trembling distant shores on an edgeless sea sending waves of joy and sorrow reverberating infinitely these messages of love
we are longing
clothed in memories
We are all basking in each other’s beautiful sunsets
when there is no one who flies
and no here nor there
There is simply soaring
Without the wings of time
memory slides through ancient dreams
of seafarers and oceanographers
who could never map this shoreless sea
...where stillness was a prize
found to be everywhere
and nowhere
calm are the waves
crashing into themselves
a constant kiss
of wet in wet
...where silence was heard
in the fathomless depths
and in the storms of forgotten shadows
rustling through diaries
where words fall through love letters
written as prayers
for tomorrows
that will never set sail
there are no separate moments...
no time...
and no things to be permanent or changing.
not one nor two nor many nor none...
not this nor that nor both nor neither...
there is no emptiness...
or fullness...
all separation, all edges, all lines, all parameters, are mentally fabricated.
some will say that all things or all thingness arises out of 'emptiness' or 'nothingness', but there is no source nor god.
life does itself,
of itself so
and it seems like there is a timeline upon which life dances, and it seems like there is an unchanging person or thing called awareness inside a constantly changing environment of separate things and events, but all that is a story written by the brain using shared learned words. (and that is a story as well)
ALL thought paints the story of this and that.
the story writes itself.
just like this
this is a sublime sadness...
maybe give it a French name like tristess...
melancholy without sadness
....joy without happiness
shhhhhhhhhhhh......
there is no enlightenment
or love
nor anyone to hold them
nor anyone to hold you
except in this song
a call and answer love song
where we seem to appear
reflections of reflections
starlight
dancing
wind tethered night
stretches into day
under the shadows
pools of midnight
rippling
where is my reflection
when there is no mirror?
how could I hide this love
when I have no nakedness
to clothe?
where does the song of wind go
when the sky has no end?
clouds gather
the sweep of day
sea reflects the dance
of wind
in-breath
out-breath
I am the day dream of wind
I was a lonely traveler
on a path
that had no direction
nor ground
nor goal
which footsteps were not my own
who could I follow
where were the feet
where were the bones
where did they go
from here?
was there a here
was there a there?
who was wandering
who was wondering
where was the dawn
in the dead of night?
the stars gave no handhold
the compass began to spin
I began to howl
longing for the clothes of moon
but only echoes bloomed
and sank
into the measureless horizon
where no one wandered
and no one wondered
skipping stones across the night
ripples never seen nor heard
lost in the beauty of unknowing
love is this blooming of shadows
exploding
into
light
morning waits
behind my face
floating in the window
steam rises
curling twisting arabesque of light
evaporates into its reflection
like time's forgotten shadow
space flows into itself
through an hourglass
made of tears
winter rains
murmur songs of yesterdays
that were never sung
syllables left their fingerprints
on the rim of the glass
when love poured her echo
into space
dawn unfolds her shadows
drops of morning slide down the glass
now empty
of reflections
now empty
of night
still
the morning echoes
marigolds in my tea
adrift in the daydream of night
neither coming nor going
whirlpool of space
dissolves into its own center less spin
light slides down the shores of memory
river of time
slides through the horizon
where never greets forever
ascending ancient tides
descending empty skies
crashing all epiphanies
into fathomless seas
clouds burst
ideas of love
of touching
of merging
melt into the sidewalk
echoes streaming
river of vacant footfalls
was there a woman
once
who longed for love
Reach through December trees
Pool in the silent garden
Song of night
Reflects your beauty
Hidden only
To you
This cannot be kissed
yet the kissing
is it
moon lit dreams slide into
long winter morning still
dark
my lamp hovers in the window
my face swims in
upside down shadows
fingertips find the keys
eyes find the lines and squiggles
songs pour from these lines
drenching main street
with reflections
no one drowns in this love
that has no place or time
or depth
my husband brings me hot tea
fingers know how hard to grasp
mouth knows how to sip
the warmth
lips know how to kiss
love knows how to love
I have had the privilege to talk and laugh and cry copiously with a few people from the day they are diagnosed until right before they die...
all virtually....
reflections slide through liquid mirrors
melodies of love without words
expressed in every word
we are this touching...
no one exists alone
life is this very intimacy
the first and last breath
wind inseparable from wind
without shape
or shadow
a ballet of sky
in sky
time collapses
when mirrors have no sides
falling into and through each other
lost and found
in
this
very
touch
we are these songs
from the first word
until the last
beginnings and endings
are words...
like life
...like love
this symphony of life
cannot find itself
it cannot separate itself
from the music
that it is
the very trying
is its apparent movement
only in the notes that seem separate
sung apart
and together
....infinite intervals
...infinite sounds
interspersed with silence
does the music appear
to hear itself
can you hear your beautiful voice
in this chorus of one?
I need your unique song
to ricochet rainbows
into your eyes
and see my colors
which are not mine
flow into this symphony
of one
of two
of many
of none
words dissolve into themselves
leave no shadows
nor echoes...
nor waves
in this ocean of love
that has no water
yet is wet
that has no love
yet is love
footprint of time
painted with dark in dark
water in water
wet in wet
I was the longing for rainbows
and a pocket to hold them
midnight blossoms
headlights streaming
cloud drenched hills
my heart wears a necklace of homeless songs
words are sparkling jewels
dancing reflections
constellations of memories
that paint the day
and a dark that can never be penetrated with shadows
but lives in its waltz with light
we are the songs of millions
of all the poets
that ever were
and will ever be
we are every broken heart
and every trembling hand
...reaching out
every smile
and every tear
every song that was heard by many
and every song that was heard by none
infinite permutations of lace wing-ed light
dissolve into their own flowing patterns
wordless love melts into its own embrace
what did I long for my entire life?
not knowing I was the longing... it was love pure and simple...
the end to the feeling of edges... of hardness... longing for softness of water flowing through water...
...currents of warmth flowing through an already sunny day... basking in colors... and light... and dark shadows hiding underneath the trees... with wisps of light caressing my face
....love caressing my face... life caressing me softly...
the knowing of this unfathomable beauty without needing to understand...
the knowing of this love which I knew just had to be here... looking for it under every rock, in every song, every word, searching the galaxy for the galaxy...
behind the mirror there were beautiful reflections that I could not see but felt...
this love has no words yet it is all words... for it is in the eyes that love resides
it is the wetness of our eyes that reflect love's beauty
...ya know when you have just that look with someone... stranger or lover....
they know...
just for a moment...
that life is precious and love is present and there is no separation...
and it is all
...beautiful...
even the sorrow...
the pain...
eternity collapses into itself...
one look...
one heart... one love...
it is a peace, neither happy nor sad, yet it is not nothing... the heartbeat of love ... thrump... thrump... thrump.... the imaginary separation of voices in this infinite chorus of love
It may feel that love can separate us... or join us... but there is no one to be separate or to feel this love
there is nothing in-between no sides...
I am the child the oldster the woman... like infinite photographs ... snapshots of timelessness.... shuffled into a deck with infinite hands... a player piano in an open field... wind dancing....
I am intoxicated gobsmacked with this unknowing... that feels like love... like, well, a sublime feeling of edgeless-ness.....
we have never been separate... it was in the looking for connections that formed our heart strings
I watch my fingers strum the strings of an instrument so vast that we are its song
we are trembling distant shores on an edgeless sea sending waves of joy and sorrow reverberating infinitely these messages of love
we are longing
clothed in memories
We are all basking in each other’s beautiful sunsets
when there is no one who flies
and no here nor there
There is simply soaring
Without the wings of time
memory slides through ancient dreams
of seafarers and oceanographers
who could never map this shoreless sea
...where stillness was a prize
found to be everywhere
and nowhere
calm are the waves
crashing into themselves
a constant kiss
of wet in wet
...where silence was heard
in the fathomless depths
and in the storms of forgotten shadows
rustling through diaries
where words fall through love letters
written as prayers
for tomorrows
that will never set sail
there are no separate moments...
no time...
and no things to be permanent or changing.
not one nor two nor many nor none...
not this nor that nor both nor neither...
there is no emptiness...
or fullness...
all separation, all edges, all lines, all parameters, are mentally fabricated.
some will say that all things or all thingness arises out of 'emptiness' or 'nothingness', but there is no source nor god.
life does itself,
of itself so
and it seems like there is a timeline upon which life dances, and it seems like there is an unchanging person or thing called awareness inside a constantly changing environment of separate things and events, but all that is a story written by the brain using shared learned words. (and that is a story as well)
ALL thought paints the story of this and that.
the story writes itself.
just like this
this is a sublime sadness...
maybe give it a French name like tristess...
melancholy without sadness
....joy without happiness
shhhhhhhhhhhh......
there is no enlightenment
or love
nor anyone to hold them
nor anyone to hold you
except in this song
a call and answer love song
where we seem to appear
reflections of reflections
starlight
dancing
wind tethered night
stretches into day
under the shadows
pools of midnight
rippling
where is my reflection
when there is no mirror?
how could I hide this love
when I have no nakedness
to clothe?
where does the song of wind go
when the sky has no end?
clouds gather
the sweep of day
sea reflects the dance
of wind
in-breath
out-breath
I am the day dream of wind
I was a lonely traveler
on a path
that had no direction
nor ground
nor goal
which footsteps were not my own
who could I follow
where were the feet
where were the bones
where did they go
from here?
was there a here
was there a there?
who was wandering
who was wondering
where was the dawn
in the dead of night?
the stars gave no handhold
the compass began to spin
I began to howl
longing for the clothes of moon
but only echoes bloomed
and sank
into the measureless horizon
where no one wandered
and no one wondered
skipping stones across the night
ripples never seen nor heard
lost in the beauty of unknowing
love is this blooming of shadows
exploding
into
light
morning waits
behind my face
floating in the window
steam rises
curling twisting arabesque of light
evaporates into its reflection
like time's forgotten shadow
space flows into itself
through an hourglass
made of tears
winter rains
murmur songs of yesterdays
that were never sung
syllables left their fingerprints
on the rim of the glass
when love poured her echo
into space
dawn unfolds her shadows
drops of morning slide down the glass
now empty
of reflections
now empty
of night
still
the morning echoes
marigolds in my tea
adrift in the daydream of night
neither coming nor going
whirlpool of space
dissolves into its own center less spin
light slides down the shores of memory
river of time
slides through the horizon
where never greets forever
ascending ancient tides
descending empty skies
crashing all epiphanies
into fathomless seas
clouds burst
ideas of love
of touching
of merging
melt into the sidewalk
echoes streaming
river of vacant footfalls
was there a woman
once
who longed for love
love is lost and found
in this hush of words unsaid
we dance on a terrace of winds
between the arms of sorrow and joy
an embrace of all tomorrows that will never come
slide through the waters of memory
tears have no substance
in these words that are not wet
syllables slide into morning
staccato of consonants
overtones of vowels
held
gently in our mouths
breathing out we kiss rainbows
into this watercolor dream
is there another place or time
where shadows lose the light
and drift into the darkness
that they are
where light looses its shadow
and falls into its own shimmering...
where darkness and light
fall in love?
is this the only dance
we will ever know?
light blooming
colors dancing
life wilting
without days
or hours
or seconds
or moments
to lose
or find?
love has no name
love has no words
it is not contained
in shadow and light
it slides through our fingers
pours through our hearts
kisses us deeply
into this day dream of love
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