Love’s all encompassing radiance

 

before love ran out she poured me through her hourglass and scattered me among infinite grains of sand
I found myself naked... running along empty beaches
I am the weight and lightness of utter transparency

and how can words contain the enormity of our lives
heart songs sung and
unsung
endless echos of soundless auras
this inside out surround sound of trailing roses
blazing
ashes
falling
and it is all words
this story of who we are and what our world is
and knowing its all story
we are a fairy tale dream song
is the song
of our lives

and utterly spontaneously your hand may seem to move to brush away the tears from another's face and that is the flow, just as rain is inevitable
...this is the dream of life.... moving... or not...  
not out of an idea that tears are wrong... or right...
knowing that movement and non movement are simply more beautiful dream stuff spinning the dream....
and nothing is wrong
or right
there are no things



I seem to arise in the longing to paint this wonder
in long slow swirls upon your breast
for the colors to bleed across your body
under your skin
to arouse the songs
known only to you
that you may sing
with me
and we may melt together
into the song of our aliveness

this is the beauty
unheard
unsung
lying beneath our colors
bursting

longing is life
life is longing

it is the sharing that paints me into this unowned beauty 



there is no separation
no things to be separate
nor one big thing to be divided

only in the languaging do there seem to be things and events
only in the languaging do I seem to appear
and yet, intuiting this un named, unknowable
edgeless liquid world
always obviously
pervasive
like the deep hush before dawn
it never leaves
and it is not separate from the paltry world of things
it feels like love and an unspeakable wondrousness has supersaturated the dream of things

with languaging the stream of perceptual input not separate from the aware-ing of it, trees and mountains seem to bloom into being
and as soon as the worded world becomes populated with things
there is an anointing of self
and other

so is there an un named world of flowing shape and color
which cannot be caught or held
a magical world that cannot be known?
perhaps intuiting this is the liquid magic we long for but can never find
as it is not a place
but is always the case

everyone knows these waters
they dip their toes into them from time to time
when melting into a sunset
or a lover
but it can be scary to recognize this
as we cannot exist there
there are no things there
there is no there 
there

bathed in and as wordless wonder
songs seem to paint me into the dream of things
but there is no paint
no painter
no dream



You are a flowing masquerade 
Of thought dreams 
Stories unowned... 
in sharing our stories we are singing love songs to each other 
We blend in this liquid love dream and when there is no looking for solidity 
It feels like yes 
We are each other 
Each other’s echoes 
There is no source to the sound of love 

Life as a human being is filled with great sadness deep despair and overwhelming joy
And love is in the sharing 

Only through imaginary separation  can there be awareing of awareing 
And that is where we appear 
Where love and beauty live 
and breathe 



turning earth
spinning heavens
shells left by the tides

time dissolved into the flowing waves
and left
nothing
no empty footsteps for you to follow
or fill

liquid
this life without knowing
no need to find
any thing
or nothing

suspended as the hush
in the swirling
love has no anchor
she cannot be lost
or found
neither can you
be lost 
or found

aware-ing of aware-ing
in the dream of edgeless wonder
and the dream of things
not separate from the liquid stream of perceptual input

vast, edgeless beyond knowing
intuited liquidity supercedes and saturates the dream of solidity
walking as edgeless wordless wonder
and watching words appear on this screen
amazed as things seem to bloom under my fingertips

doves swooping down to the feeders
golden finches hanging upside down on their nets of thistle seeds
coffee maker burbles
the hum of aliveness
sings


did you hear the wind last night
rustling through leftover leaves
sailing through the clouds
swooning through the moon?

sky wind trees 
sun
everything is dancing
with everything
you cannot find the dance
there is no out or inside

and who longs to waltz along the road above the sky
lose themselves in the grandeur of this magic
that they feel is all around them
but can never touch

and you lose yourself in the longing
as the longing is you
yearning to hold the magic
is the magic

intrinsically knowing that life is magic
knowing you are dying
you are the longing to find something
anything to hold on to

you search through ancient texts
and listen to the modern masters
you walk in meadows with flowers brushing your knees
you lay among the grasses
waiting...
for what?

all you can 'know' is this seamless edgless indivisible symphony of perception... and the knowing of it is inseparable from this flow

all is utterly liquid including the heart that wishes to grasp it
all handholds are falling
all solidity dissolves
it never was
there is no never
or forever

trees waltzing with sky
the lines begin to blur
amazing dance of dissolving lace
tears
falling
the beauty of unknowing
of not grasping
of empty hands
empty hearts
dissolving
into the immediacy of this dance they never left


she could never find her skin
without the outline of sky
nor her nakedness
without another dancing
nor this love
she knew was not hers
nor anyones
to have and hold
inner space
outer space
words lost their meaning....
meaning lost its meaning

trying to ease the dizzyiness
of chasing her tale
she lay on the banks of midnight
and drank deeply the stars
turning twisting madly spinning
inside merged with outside
her skin of liquid fire horses 
rearing
bursting into sky


she could never find her skin
without the outline of sky
nor her nakedness
without another dancing
nor this love
she knew was not hers
nor anyones
to have and hold
inner space
outer space
words lost their meaning....
meaning lost its meaning

trying to ease the dizzyiness
of chasing her tale
she lay on the banks of midnight
and drank deeply the stars
turning twisting madly spinning
inside merged with outside
her skin of liquid fire horses 
rearing
bursting into sky

prism of wind paints colors soaring soaring
in you as you through you...
forming and erasing you
wind dissolves into sky
sky into wind
rainbow transparency has no color
it is color
things are not full of emptiness
nor is emptiness
this edgeless world
has no love
without the colors that you are


howl of winter
howl of moon
howl of your aloneness
echoeing 
in these liquid halls of memories 
of all the firery autumns
and springs blossoming
summer streaming
long
slow 
waves
lapping
on a shoreless sea
kissing their reflection
through rainbow ocean spray
sound of your aloneness
melts
into the rythm of your breath
your heartbeat

screaming lullabyes
will not save your flesh from melting
your bones from burning
the very core of your being
exposed
to be nothing at all

no one howls
no one answers
it is only echoes
burning

and how beautiful the wind
scattering love's ashes

we are simply stories that seem to paint themselves
as they self erase
there is no backdrop of time or place
outside of the story
and this is
a story
an illusion

how wondrous
to be a magical hologram
dancing across this mind stream
no me nor others
no things nor their absence
no time nor timelessness can be found
and it is truly beautiful
this imaginary life
where beauty and love blossom
and fall
and death is certain


what beholds the universe is not separate from it
is there a world
outside
is there an outside?
empty shells hold the breath of ocean
wind is an empty breath
love has no breath
outside of yours

we are all stories of love
and love lost
they swirl inside our empty breast
we can feel the hum of our aliveness
colors
turning
leaves
falling
tears
dissolving in an empty room
where our aloneness hovers
and the ache for love
sings
like this
hello
I love you
let us share this great aloneness

and they waltzed in the winds where sorrow and joy merged
falling into each other
they disappeared

they never were
it was always only 
echoes
dancing



this obvious spontaneous edgeless symphony of perception and its simultaneous inseparable recognition is unknowable....
undifferentiated .....liquid.... it consists of not even nothing... as it has no edges, no outside or inside, it is not an it....

as you reach our your hands to touch you are obviously not separate
do not your hands also appear in this symphony of perception?
is not the recognition of this symphony also the symphony?
is there ever awareness without perception? 

no separation whatsoever

if it feels like there is a separate you and separate things and events, are you separate from that feeling?

seamless wordless wonder is never not and has never not been the case, it simply was perhaps not noticed or rarely noticed, as you, an imaginary noticer, seemed to aquire layers of opalesance.... 
like a liquid shell without a pearl, luminescence sliding through luminescence... layers of transparancy seemed to form a window between you and your world
and you, these scintillating rainbow overtones of memory are only as thick as thought,
and thick is a thought....
thought is thought

what can be said when there is no what?

without the knowing of knowing.... imaginary separation ... no flowers exist .....there is no beauty

walking along the sidewalk you can almost feel the continents drift.... the center of the earth is liquid... 
fireflies drift
garden of stars
where does the light in your night time dream come from?
how is it different from day?
where are the stars
what is starlight
all words are defined by other words
word is a word...

there is nothing to hold onto
no hands separate from what seems to appear
no things to grasp other than in the names that seem to capture a bit of starlight
no heart separate from love
no love separate from you


and you are safe
surrounded by a wall of liquid echoes and reflections
a tiny gap and a piercing light appears
and you are compelled
and fearful
for your world no longer seems solid

what can you really know?
you say you were born on a certain day
but you know that that is hearsay
and was it really you who tried to run away from home
or is it just a story your parents told you 
over and over
and was it you sitting on your grandfathers lap
or is that simply a photograph on the wall
what is real
what is not
questions fall through questions
a delicious spaciousness appears
the curtain parts
the veil of solidity dissolves

memory is liquid
thought slides through thought
what can you really know?
the past is memory
and the future an idea
there is no thing called now....
all of life seems to appear
and simulaneously dissappear
it does not linger
or fade

yet there seems to be an aftertaste
overtones and undertones
minus the original sound
like a dream you once remembered
it feels
beautiful
to not be able to capture
or hold
anything
or nothing

the hush before sunrise
leaves
scattered
by autumn winds
the storm is over
all is bathed in an unutterable radiance
the illusion of inside
and outside
is gone
all beliefs have popped
they never contained a thing
there never were any things
no mountains
no valleys
no space
in between
no time between here
and there
no where to do
nothing to get
no one to wander endlessly looking for eternity
no hand no heart separate from the dream of 
everything and nothing

and it is bittersweet to realize that your life has been a story
and still is
and that knowing you are dreamt
is the dream
as well have been all your lovers
and all you have lost
in love
in war
in this dream of splendid aliveness

in this dream of exquisite beauty
there is love

and it is not bad or good
real or unreal
not this nor that
nor both nor neither




she was the longing for love, the longing to return to the garden where she did not exist
and found she had no actual existance anywhere
just a liquid trail of memory
shared learned words seemingly slicing up this sensorial banquet
which no one can deny or explain
all the whys left
all the looking for solidity
all the looking....

walking through the abandoned city we walked to the edge of everything and nothing at all....
we sat in the grasses by the edge of the cliff at sunset and watched a group of white monkeys slowly pass between us and the sun.... you know how their fur gets back lit and they are so beautiful... as they wandered from tree to tree... enchanting... 
and the softness of their fur and the softness of the light...  this enchantment is ever present now... no conjuring needed... yet it is all conjured... a magic trick of this and that and light and shadow
caressing all things into existence 

in a way we are all ancient cities
we are all wandering down memory lane.... into the blazing sunset

how strange and beautiful that we can share these memories these stories that we are, and become each other... in the sharing ...this is love......

how rich and lush these memories... that we are... and reaching out to touch... tears... such beauty... in the longing
to touch
I love you

all we can do is describe
but in the sharing of these stories
we can almost
touch
can you hear your heart weeping
or is it mine?

'this' is inconceivable and unknowable, and yet in the description (which can never catch 'this' edgeless seamless liquitidy) all things seem to arise... 
it is the knowing of this unknowalbe-ness that is sublime... as this is the end of looking for solidity... for understanding... and the emergence of the knowing that there are no things to know and no one to know
anything
or nothing

'this' is indescribeable yet in the describing things like 'this' seems to arise...

the doves have come and sparrow song fills the garden
first tires on the road
why would anyone look for emptiness
it has no actual existence
simply another imaginary thing
like you



all we can do is describe
but in the sharing of these stories
we can almost
touch
can you hear your heart weeping
or is it mine?

'this' is inconceivable and unknowable, and yet in the description (which can never catch 'this' edgeless seamless liquitidy) all things seem to arise... 
it is the knowing of this unknowalbe-ness that is sublime... as this is the end of looking for solidity... for understanding... and the emergence of the knowing that there are no things to know and no one to know
anything
or nothing

'this' is indescribeable yet in the describing things like 'this' seems to arise...

the doves have come and sparrow song fills the garden
first tires on the road
why would anyone look for emptiness
it has no actual existence
simply another imaginary thing
like you

dawn holds your empty breath
between the pause of midnight

flowers unfurl and rip off the face of darkness
bleeding sunrise into a song the night forgot

it was in her pocket
of empty shadows
where you wandered
looking for light
never noticing the brilliance
of endless galexies spinning inside your neurons

mouthing the words of others tied you to the sky
which had no ropes
no solidity other than these words
sliding into other words
no things exist
outside of words

outside is a word
word is a word

grasping an imagainary moment
it falls through its own grasping
your hands your heart have no colors
outside of this song
they fall through an empty rainbow
that has no end
or beginning

the love you longed for is in the longing
there is no finding
or losing 
love



who is that person in the mirror?
is there a person there?
is there a there?
is there a here?
or are there just sensations flowing... and a lasso of thought that seems to capture a face... memory fills in the blank.... of a you and other and time... flowing... emerging and dissolving simultaneously without a background of even emptiness



when you are not.......
there is no happiness nor sorrow...

many write me
they long to erase themselves
they think there is a place outside of this human existence they can reach... a place always in the sun
a place without sorrow without pain....
without death
but there is no place outside of this worded world
this thought dream of this and that 
this is where love and beauty live and breathe
through the prism of you life seems to taste itself
feel its own aliveness
can you feel this pulsating aliveness?
is it in you or outside of you?
all sensation is a confirmation of your beautiful aliveness
all emotion is a confirmation of your beautiful humanness

face it, life as a human being is hard.
Life is full of great joy and deep deep sorrow and despair. 
No one gets out unscathed. 
Everyone has loved and lost love. 
We are blessed to know that life is precious and we are blessed to know that someday we and everyone we have ever known and loved will die. This brings about this preciousness.
most of all, we are blessed to love.

there is no other better more 
or next
yes, all separation is imaginary 
you are imaginary
trees mountains
time
is imaginary
love
is imaginary

oh! the first doves are swooping down to the frozen ground
I forgot to fill the feeders last night



always new and always familiar like a deja vu rolling through itself... neither forwards or backwards... neither still nor moving.... tears fall and they have no gravity...

there was never a place to land or a place to arrive... no one was falling... gravity an illusion, as lightness itself is an idea...

light and dark seem to caress you and your world into being
it is always only, and just as it seems

this is not like childhood for there was no knowing of the wowness that explodes in this never always first and last kiss...

there is no one or thing looking through these eyes... yet seeing seems to happen... hearing tasting touching 
feeling... 
an infinte seamless edgeless sensorial display
that has no actual things
yet all and everything seem to appear
a flower blooming
wilting
petals
tears
doves at the feeders


like the small birds that fly in our house and think the way out is through the window… and I coo at them softly and walk sideways towards them and slowly bring my hands around them.  I make sure to let them see out as they put their tiny claws on my fingers… and I bring their soft bodies outside and open my hands…. Sometimes they fly away without pause, sometimes they wait, a bit, …or more… and realize they are free…

and there are stars

just waiting to bloom

echoes of ancient light

deep in your heart

where you dare not look

there is an ache

beckoning...

sun falls through the horizon

light into dark

dark into light

clouds and continents drift...

outer space falls through inner space

can you gather space?

is it full?

is it empty?

where is the place where starlight shimmers?

in the sky?

on the rippling waters?

in your eyes?

in your heart?

in your mind?

spinning around trying to find a place to land trying to erase this confusion that erupts when you look for something solid

and certain

something you can hold on to.... 

there must be a key

a perfect word

that will unlock the treasure you sense is near....

oh it is close, sure enough,

closer than the tongue in your mouth

closer than this very breath

closer than these words flowing through your mind stream

no one has ever captured starlight

but I can see it in your eyes

in your tears

in that ache in your chest

the longing for love

that you fear

that you have been running away from your entire life

you can feel this great emptiness

this void without even emptiness

there is a feeling that this fire can be quenched

this hunger can be stopped

this thirst to know to find to capture to hold life

to know love

is what you are

it may explode and you and your world will be extinguished

this fire consumes even itself

love's fire burns everything

even love

it is only after love 

and the world as we knew it dies

blooms this all encompassing love

but you cannot reach it or have it

it is merely the belief that love is a thing separate from you

that prevents the recognition of love's all encompassing radiance

Echoes of your heart

 you can hear the echos of your heart bleeding

petals of sound
falling into their own caress of
utter
softness
between sound and silence
vibrating in the hollowing moon

tears have no color other than all
colors
bleeding into the dream of rainbows
blooming and
fading
sliding through the color land dream scape of time
and space
the lap of ancient tides
is your blood rushing into the sea

the rise and
fall
of tides
of all the wetness
that will never quench your thirst
nor leave you empty
there is no vessel
that is not water
no thing can contain all this love
love's hands are yours
love's face
is yours
love's heart
is
yours
is mine
is us


and you feel like you have reached the end of your story
all that seeking...
peering into books into words under the letters 
in-between the pages
has never led you to the answer
and you are beginning to doubt that there is an answer
you have reached the edge of the known world
there are no more signs
you cannot see anywhere to go
there is no next...
you turn around and there is no back

and you may begin to notice that all words are defined by other words
and all concepts all ideas all belief is made of yet more ideas and that this thinking of these ideas is simply
more ideas
more concepts
....and all are held together in a picture of what your world is like and what it is not...

layers of belief like a hornets nest of paper
letters written by no one tied together with a string of thought that says, 'this is my world'
'here I am' in this world of swirling beliefs, a galaxy of concepts that somehow seem to fit together in a costume that you wear

and you may begin to wonder if the idea that there is a someone inside this mental construction of belief that is
crumbling
under the weight of unknowing

there may seem to be a nakedness under the paper mâché mask 
that no one wears
but that is simply more ideas
filling in the blankness
trying to find a light
in the dark
when there is no light
or dark



who made these empty footsteps...
who cried these tears...
who moans the emptiness of time,
and weeps at the emptiness and fullness of love....

how can the river taste its wetnes
or tears taste their salty sweetness without the interface of your tongue
what is the taste of taste?
you are an imginary lens between the brain and the universe
a prism creating light and shadow and
colors....

can you explain love?
what are we but this flowing description
that has no end or beginning nor pause
or space
between never and forever

I see no space between me and love
for I have no clue what I am or what love is

we all know this nakedness
either feared or longed for
hanging on the edge of no tomorrow...
there can be an un answered question, a hope for love
and a fear of losing ourselves in love
all questions slide out the door that has never been closed in your heart

love is like knives
soft
unyiellding
confirming your nakedness
your joy
your sorrow
our nakedness
our joy
our sorrow
our aliveness 

our brief life
an open door
where love enters
and flies out
with you in her fiery talons




stars may seem fixed... 
but there is no holding on
to
starlight

love is a foreign language
that your heart sings
to you

it cannot be understood
there is no need
why stars
why sky why clouds why love
why... 
why?
words have no meaning nor non meaning
yet they are all we have
we are this storyline
this thought dream
meandering through starlight
the stars form patterns of ancient travellers
and archers, bow and arrow poised
only in our minds

we are star travellers
dissolving into our own light


what can you really know?, or is all 'knowing' conceptual
simply a stream of words outlining what a thing seems to be and what it is not...
words are lassos thrown around this symphony of perception, and this imaginary perceiver, never actually catching anything
yet seeimginly creating it
can you know if there is a 'knower' 
separate from a paper lantern
pages of knowledge
that seem to hold light in
and yet let it shine through





time loses its meaning
meaning loses its meaning
the passion play dances across the mind screen and it is not real or unreal or surreal or maybe it is all three
all designations are felt to be false including
false and true
it is truly a feeling of floating
skinless
in and as an impossible dream of heart breakingly beautimous wonder
all the people I know
my lovers and passersby
are seen to be exploding jewels of centerless light
galaxies
spinning
dancing down the sidewalk
and that broken hearted beauty in everyones eyes
is me
is not me

for I am just another exploding rainbow
colors painting the universe
with these eyes
that no one lies behind
this kiss of everything and nothing
collapses into itself
into this
very momentary
of obvious aliveness
and what it is I cannot say
for truly I have no clue as to what love is
or I am
but I am no longer looking for clues
there is no answer
all questions fell apart when words lost their meaning



and we know that there is no controlling the rain
or the sun
and it may feel like there is someone separate from life who can control it
but can you remember deciding you were going to feel like a controller or chooser of thought or feeling
when did you decide to have these sad or joyful feelings
when did you decide that this has to be a bouquet of endlessly blooming flowers
or didn't you
perhaps all of life happens
all by itself
seems like it simply looks and feels like anything at all, doesn't it
including the feeling that it shoudn't look or feel like it does

can you say, as life happens, THIS is the beginning of a thought or feeling and NOW is when it ends? are there separate thoughts or feelings? perhaps it is because there is no one or thing separate from this flow we call life, this flow of thought and feeling that seems to happen whatever we may call it, bad or good, or in between... and the labeling of it also happens utterly naturally and spontaneously... the feeling of ease and the feeling of unease arise utterly easefully... just like you drink water and know it is wet, so is this knowing inseparable from the symphony of perception



what is this foreign tongue that I seem to speak
what is the meaning of these words that slide off my tongue
the taste of sound has no translation
nor does silence have a word to hold these empty stars

starls seems to punctuate the dark
arrows drawing attention to the absence of light
what is endless darkness
or the eternity of light
without the kiss of starlight in your eyes?

doves alight on the feeders 
through the window I can feel their softness
and the warmth and roundness of their bodies
or is it my breath
my heart beating
in their chests



winter trees
lace wing sky
watching the long migration of summer
into summer
you can feel the heat
radiating in and out
rushing through your heart
pounding in your ears
love rests and folds into herself
nestles into the long cold night

what we call life feels real and unreal and surreal simultaneously, and there is no reality nor unreality.... floating as spontaneous bursts of music and light and color flow through vast edgeless spaciousness without space or music or color, there is no backdrop to be empty or full, these apparent things and events are not related nor unrelated, not separate nor joined, obviously thing-less yet memory seems to create things....
crunching an apple
teeth puncturing the redness
wet and white inside
how magical is eating and swallowing and watching
morning slide into the garden
elegant steam rise from my tea
doves float down to the feeder
and were they here yesterday
what is yesterday
what is tomorrow
what is time
I cannot find any things nor a timeline

like clouds memory disappears and reappears and provides a story of a girl a woman a songstress a.... what am I, I have no idea
only that I am an idea
and ideas are ideas
and all this is ideas
stories projected into the inside of this skull
that only I can see
I am part of the picture
no one else can see this movie
yet everyone I seem to know is in it

is it a dream is it real
what is a dream
what is real
simply whatever thought says it is
there is no trying to find the essense of life
there is no essense
nor is there not

there a sublime ease of all of it, the symphony of dreams and the dream perceiver, this aliveness seems to be subsumed in a love that has no lines yet draws them all....
thought seems to create and link separate things and events together painting a liquid picture of separate people who live and love and die....

and it feels beautiful... simply beyond belief that anything seems to happen at all 


sky has no stars in the day
washed by wings of all consuming light
you can feel them
under the blanket of night
where the world turns
through distant lands
as we circle
ourselves
again and again
hello goodbye
hello



looking for the end of ideas and hypothoses for that
final
kiss
...the cause of infinity
the marrow of love...
all you can find is endless ideas

yet the enchantment of ancient songs
beckons
you hear your heart song echo in the mountain tops hidden in early morning mist
ricochet in deep deep canyons
and the leaves
trembling in autumn winds
you can feel it in the cool sand under your feet
and see it in the sunset

meandering streams with
pools of rippling
reflections
of sky
you try to hold the flowing
and sky flows through you
there was never a line between you
and sky

it is elusive but obvious
this knowing that there is no knowing
nor anyone who could know
this sublime utter intimacy of life
that you have always been

we appear and seem to meet in this kiss
of nothing and everything
rush and suck of tides
waves pumelling toward the shore
horses in a wild gallop
stop suddenly in a meadow
there are flowers
and long long grasses
a meandering stream
and endless sky

there are no outlines
nor in-lines
simply a vast measureless expanse
of what, there is no substance
not lack of substance
there is no lack
at
all



waves of long grasses
moving
un-moving
heart beat of time
in your chest
in your heart
in your footsteps

you can hear the echo of your aloneness
in the wind
in the sunset
in the lace of ice flowering on the stream

you are the echo of your own death
and you sing madly trying to drown yourself out
your quest for love and meaning
just a dusty trail
everyone seems to walk
rarely noticing the long spring grasses
lapping at your feet



warm, shallow waves of sunset bleed into your heart
or is it your heart bleeding
into 
your own death

nothing is ordinary
nothing escapes this obvious beauty
love and love lost
those days and nights of deep deep grief
following trails of rain slide down the window
last bit of sun sparkles in the wetness
mirrors your beautiful tears

long light flowing across sandstone cliffs
painting deepening shadows
gathering now under the cottonwoods and the low lying brambles
a deer wanders into her sunset colors across barren sands
and fallen leaves
we saw three coyotes yesterday
sharing the wonder
this wonder of wonder
is love

no longer looking for solidity
self looses its feeling of solidity
it becomes transparant 
all things lose their opacity
time a forgotton mirror
simply broken pieces of memory
shimmering in the canyon
there is a seeing through the seeing that there is a someone or something doing the seeing
and all imaginary lines separating the see-er and the seen dissolve

endless silouettes of cupped hands
like echoes of parantheses
billowing outward
and in ward
there is no where to meet

we exist in the missing of each other
this ache that we are
is our shared humanness
is beautiful
is love

the utter unspeakable unknowing of what love and beauty are
is their beauty
is love

what am I what is love
what is that deer across the canyon
what is this last bit sunlight
bathing all and everything in a perpetual magic hour
I have no idea
and am no longer looking for an anchor
of truth or meaning or reality

I am just wind
singing love songs
to the wind



this journey requires no clothes, no shoes, no map, no trail
no mountain or valley
nor earth or sky
all that is required is your nakedness
and well
that can not be denied

this utter intimacy of life
is inescapable
you cannot run away from it
it will not follow
or lead
it is your footsteps in the sand
in the wind
in the sky

it is your longing for love
and your fear
of losing yourself in love
that cuts deeply
forms the edges of your heart
where echoes of ancient love songs
smolder

we are but reflections of liquid sky
in sky
there is no origin of sky
other than sky itself
no source of love
other than love
itself

we are an imaginary split between heaven and earth
endless horizons
blooming
falling
petals of wind
in wind
beauty sliding into
beauty
love sliding 
into
love



inside the sky
under the spinning stars
deep sea anenomies breathe

in your chest
all of life is singing
galaxies are forming and dissolving into colors
you can never catch
your breath
it is not yours
nor is this heart
beating
wildly

no poems can be found inside these words
no love rests inside your heart

heart beat of life
rythm of this and that
tympani of thunder
rolls through you
you are sky bursting
and the shelter of ancient love songs
scattered under the trees
poems strewn across the sky
above the clouds
there are stars
spinning

they can only be seen at night
but day cannot hide from its own light
nothing can hide
or reveal
love 



leafless twigs
forgotten words
hover
suspended in the frozen winds

there is nothing to find
everything is found
nothing is lost
there are no things
everything is included

water
deep inside the ground
rumours of love
murmer
ocean of love
bathes in itself
your eyes caress its caressing
love tastes itself through your tears

and why should life
or love matter
why love
why up
what is the meaning of meaning?

questions unfurl like prayer flags and wind seems to play in the brightly colored fabric leaking colors into the wind
and sky

and this is the beauty of ancient love songs
sliding off the words
falling through the music

there is no translation
for love



everyone feels the suffering of others... as kids we are often taught by example that its just too painful and these feelings are walled off... sometimes we are taught to comfort... yet oftentimes the wanting to end someones tears is simply a symptom of our uncomfortableness
how wondrous just to be with another in their pain loving them just as they are

it seems that the feeling that there is a you who feels love
creates a boundary between you and love
between you and others
this feeling seems to be a veil between you and the feeling
but you are not separate from love
or the longing for it




what is it that you want
are you this wanting?
long low waves of summer lap at the edge of midnight

what do the words mean when you take the letters out and scatter them in the garden
hoping they will grow
shooting out tendrils
like a blind person studying your face with her fingertips
you want to know your self
you want to really know life
and love
to hold the preciousness
of this obvious aliveness

pulling back the covers you find
nothing at all
between the pages of the book
between the lines and spaces
under the letters
just more love letters
you wrote as a child
and hid them in the garden
under the fallen leaves
under the falling stars
burning

there is no rainbow at the end of the road...
colors are
stars fall
tears fall
love is

river of wings

of reflected light

soaring rising falling emerging dissolving 

light kisses light and you can feel your lips

painted with sun and tears and bits of poems

words once spoken fall into echoes

this dreamland of thought dreams itself

erases itself

and the surface of the water is untouched

as it kisses itself

through your lips

and you can feel the rumble of ancient volcanoes in your chest

continents drifting beneath your feet

rolling thunder in your heart

as it explodes

and the rupture of your world

is the crack in time

you always feared

and it always was

and it never was

and there is no more searching for that kiss you lost

long ago

those wings never let you down

the river flows

the ocean waits

water falls

into water

sky slides

into sky

no sea

no sky

no earth

no heaven

all is heaven

there is no love

all is love