All is a Love Song that Never Was
Nor Will Ever Be
feathered caress of light and dark pierces your eyes and melts all ideas of love
and not love
rhapsody of wonder shimmers
in the air in the sea in the mountains
falling
rivers
pouring into
oceans of tears and obvious
utter
profound peace
is it love is it beauty
Is it even an it at all?
pine needles glistening in the morning sun
tree tops reaching up through fingers of sky
raven soars through clouds and space and swoops across the canyon
shadows bend and slide
all is a dance of utter freedom when there are no things to be free or bound
the passion play continues to paint and dissolve itself
wind leaves no trail in sky
the dream spell has no dreamer
no one is enchanted by this sliding picture show shimmering through a landscape of time and space and love and
not even nothing at all...
gently gently sun
wind flowers cartwheel through the grass
the world of things is a strange and familiar song floating
A sourceless symphony
going nowhere
landing nowhere
the music fades into the dream scape where there is no music
yet all is a love song
never heard
always heard
never sung
never unsung
it has always never been more or less than that which it never was
slow waltz of wind and trees and sky cannot be gathered in your hands or heart as you are inseparable from this wonderland ballet this ocean of echoes this arabesque of reflections twirling infinite colors into a hush without silence or stillness or movement or an actual song that can be understood or known or heard or
not heard....
this symphony of wonder may seem to have separate instruments, sound touch taste sight, and someone who sees and hears and loves….
but no watcher or player or conductor can ever be found,
nor a stage or dance floor across which life waltzes...
infinite galaxies spin only in this fairy tale of thought that seems to spiral endlessly as no beginning or end can be found.... or lost,
you are part of the enchantment
this wonderland thought paints with no background or foreground,
all is sky written in sky
wind painted with wind
vast measureless spaciousness without space...
and what could possibly divide you from all this when there is no this to divide?
sound flowers falling rippling through infinite shimmering space and time and the unborn spaces in-between the betweens where no one nor thing ever existed or did not exist...
mirrors melting into their reflections
words sliding off the page
all windows and doors and walls and ceilings and floors dissolve as inside and outside coalesce, they never were, no things ever were, there never was a sound and light show where you were the audience and the singer... trying to hold a note so that the universe would shatter into endless shards of starlight
and you would become the light
...the love you sought….
all ideas of time and starlight travel
vanish
the hush of no tomorrow blossoms into an endless flowering
waterfalls of light and sound and color cascade through your endless body…
rushing river of dreams pours into oceans of endless sky
floating falling arpeggio’d wonder sings and soars and dances without direction or non direction or any place of departure or destination at all….
is this love is this madness?
no one can say no one could ever know yet everyone feels this seamless wonder of which I sing…
it is not hidden it is not a secret it is obvious
closer than these words sliding through your head...
blatantly intimate
aliveness without name or number
not even love
yet love
is the word that explodes through the mind stream and swallows all other words
you can feel your heart beating
reaching out to break its imaginary walls...
wild love has always been your song
there is no need to try to remember that which can never be known
or unknown…
this is the end of trying to fill your empty heart
your heart was never full nor empty as it is not yours
love is boundless it cannot be divided...
or added to
or subtracted from
life as it seems to appear, looking and feeling like anything at all is super complete in itself
even the feeling of lack
is utterly complete and without lack
there is no other
there is no next
you know that
echo winds
gather and disperse all yesterdays in whirlpools of reflections
I almost saw my face
in the falling leaves
symphony of dreams
has no dreamer
summer slides in on ancient wings
there is no pure tone
all is echoes
traffic and morning doves
golden finches hanging upside down
the spinning world has lost its axis
love has burst all the seems
no one can say what anything is or is not, as we are this symphony of dreams
morning combs my hair with golden
evening hides in my crown of grey
when was it not
when is it ever
not this
just as it seems to appear
descending bird song echoes in the canyon
morning wind
and the sound of sky
flowers
~~~
poems spiral
bleed into the dream of day
picking plum blossom clouds
here
and there
along the meandering
~~~
sky swirls into the wings of night
Lillies unfold into the luster of moon
an old woman basks in the sound of midnight
a dream girl bathing in the river of dreams
~~~
morning rain
cloud shadows puddle on the sidewalk
walking across the pale moon
street lights fade
and where is the gap between light and shadow
where is the space between our eyes
whose endless skies
whose acres of tears
who would spin sunlight into gold
it’s all gold
this is the treasure you longed for
you just cannot have it
without the word rain
there is none
love is a word
word
is
a
word
this worded world contains everything and nothing…
nothing and everything,
emptiness and fullness
are words
and what can be said about this obvious ungraspable aliveness
except that it is indeed obvious and ungraspable...
not a thing nor a non thing…
Ahhhhhhhh!
this rich sensuous immeasurable life that pours us out and drinks us!
such utter intoxication!
complete and unabridged,
the passion play of all and everything
looking and feeling like anything at all
never begins or ends
has no middle
or author
is it actually happening?
is there any solidity to be found?
and what is there outside of it to look?
what happens when all questions about imaginary things cease,
and all things are imaginary...
this is the profound sublime peace
of utter unknowing
wonder abounds
slowly
slowly
dawn
floating bird song
wind gusts and
sighs
fabric of stars fades
morning weaves and unravels itself
liquid symphony of wonder
floats
suspended
words are footfalls
softly
softly
pine needles
shimmering
day time dream fades
last breath of sun
slides into night
hides in star
shadows
blooming
softly
in your
eyes
sinking
slowly
into the dream
of
sleep
and the universe dissolves into it’s own magical brilliance
without in-breath or out
without gap or pause
without any background of time or place
it may appear like the moon slides across the vault of sky
kissing her reflection under the sea
just
before
she disappears
but that is thought racing through memory and imaginary futures painting seemingly solid things like a moon and a sky and a you
standing on the shores of a vast uncertain universe terrified of falling into the great unknown…
but life is unknowable
ungraspable
what are stars, anyway?
all we can do is throw more words into the sea of language
there are no handholds in this floating world
dissolving in oceans of underwater skies
cricketsong
night
slides under the shadow of morning
long elegant scraps of cloud
dissolving
and in the tangling roses
birds
where is the wind when you are not?
what is wind…
this breath
this song
this poem this life that has no edges
or center
around which these words swirl….
mid summer
autumn leaves
falling
waves of grasses
graced by golden
shallow breeze
breath of dawn
waltz of light and shade carpets the garden path
always
always
without time or place
in every hour
in every place
this
very
kiss
wind caresses the sound of wind
softly
gently
shimmering reflections bathe in the dream of yesterday’s skies
echoes paint water color transparencies
in the world of imaginary things
as it melts into this very kiss
of everything and nothing
never here
never not here…
listening to its own silence
thunder rolls across the vault of sky
avalanche of unknowing crushes the known world
your heart trembles
with longing and terror
sky slides out from under the rainbow
colors dissolve into their own light
there never was any solidity
or liquidity
love is a sourceless dream
that has swallowed the rainbows
the wind
and me
lone fencepost
sculpted by wind and sand
sometimes a dove
echo bird cannot be found
her shadow swallowed by darkness
her light
by light
what is the sound of no tomorrow?
nothing seems to be happening, yet everything seems to happen…
without thought/memory there are no things to be happening...
no happening nor non happening at all....
all things are defined by other things and there are no things nor non things, so this undefinable ungraspable wondrousness is always obvious, and becomes the story that subsumes the passion play…
we share this great aloneness that defines us
how deep the morning as it fades into noon?
thought twirls around itself
spiraling without end or beginning
weaving this dream ballet
with beginnings and endings,
birth and death
love unfolding
and wilting
wings and hearts
beating…
sound and silence
time and timelessness….
this is a dance without name or number
or dancer,
or any space or spaceless-ness…
nothing within or without this endless ocean of thought
waves
within waves
heroines and villains
slide off the page
words dissolve
leaving no meaning or non meaning
nor echoes to spin…
no whirlpools of wonder
no one to ponder
where or why
life is suspended
without motion of stillness
floating in underwater skies
this obvious brilliant immediacy
is ungraspable
unknowable,
for there are no hands, there is no heart outside of this endless ocean
all is wetness
without wetness
this is the fatal kiss of never and forever
a tsunami of sky
falling
ideas
floating
without space or spaceless-ness
without meaning or non meaning
there is no one to be lost or found
there is nothing to lose
nothing to find
there are no things and no absence of things
no looking for tomorrows
or anything more or better
crushed and obliterated in the embrace of everything and nothing
sorrow and joy
grief and bliss
emptiness and fullness…
this whirlwind of ideas
blows itself away
love was never was anything more or less
than a beautiful dream
the residue of sorrow
drenched in love
without love
no one has been banished from the dream of time
all footsteps dissolved
by wind and rain and this ocean of tears
reflecting a universe
of reflections
all and everything
and nothing at all
softly smoothly effortlessly suspended
as liquid iridescence reflection songs
there are no colors outside of this rainbow dream
the music of hello is an echo of endless goodbyes
without thought there is no water or wetness or you or me or love.
without thought there are no things or non things, period,
....not even a thing called thought.
this obvious vibrant aliveness self arises and simultaneously self erases without ever becoming any thing actual and substantial or solid or fixed.
you cannot even call this aliveness liquid as that would require edges and things that move....
as there are no things there is no movement nor non movement...
there is no outside to this obvious elusive aliveness, so there is no inside...
there is never anything other
so there is no this...
infinite sky, infinite space….
without sky
without space
what is without lines or space or emptiness….
it is this thought dream that paints your unique universe with galaxies
spinning,
and a you in the center, the hero or heroine of this passion play of wonder…
when the dream is believed, it feels like there is a thinker, a someone who feels, a bather in moonlight dreaming….
the mystery of love
the mystery of mystery...
thought spins a web of imaginary knowing
that never caught anything
not even itself
elegant fluidity without movement or stillness
winged arabesque of light swirls through light
emptiness pirouettes through its nameless name
erasing all form and formlessness
this kiss of never and forever
takes not even a moment
it erases all ideas of time and space
it is the end of what you thought you were
not even nothing fills in the blank
this obvious brilliant aliveness
has no edges nor center
no owner no source
wind hangs from a tether less sky
this windless day
we exist in the touching
yet we can never touch
there appears to be reaching out….
and this is the longing that defines us
all is a love song from everywhere and no where
water
flowing
through water
your heart was never tamed
it has always been bleeding between the lines
deep reds and purples drowning into black
nothing can lasso love
or surround this all encompassing cry
of utter emptiness
and the doves fly up
feathering tales of wonder
endless space
held
in the caress of words
and you
and me
dancing in the death grip of love
love obliterates all and everything
even love
this edgeless heart
this love without a center
this miracle of oceans and rivers and whirlpools
drowning
in water
this seamless wonder of love
drowning
in love
when there is no feeling separate from feelings or sensations or thoughts
this is seamless wonder...
ultimate ok-ness
there are no things without thought
thought seems to create things
including thought.
trying to look.... closer and closer
what is thought?
why it is obvious isn't it?
as thought is pretty much continuous
all day
and if it does cease, for a moment, the first thought is usually
OH! I wasn't thinking!
the thought stream is the narrator of you and 'your life'...
it paints colors...
there really are no separate colors, without thought/words....
does thought come from a brain?
have you known anyone who's brain is degenerating
they become less and less of who we once knew and know... as they can no longer react to us, they have no words, thought is twisted, ... tears...
truly if you are the belief that all is awareness
or consciousness...
or god or source...
that is a nice comforting thought...
but there are no things called awareness or god without thought...
there are no unchanging things like space and time or awareness upon which the rest of the dream travels...
there are no things or non things,
the recognition of this seamlessness
the end of the belief in separation is what enlightenment is
it is truly intimate
closer than the tongue in your mouth
closer than thought....
and all your ideas will be shattered...
ALL your beliefs about what the world is like and what it is not like
ALL your ideas about you are and what you are not
all ideas of things called love and truth and enlightenment
are eviscerated
and there is not even nothing left....
does thought continue after this profound shift in perspective?
yes, but it is truly altered when meaning and meaninglessness evaporate...
I often say it feels like love
but
there is no love
no longer asking
why beauty
why love
why… why…
water
falls
through water
you melt into and fall
through your own embrace
clouds
float
off the page
all dissolves into the hush
that never left
and cannot be known
it is not separate from you
there is no one to be separate or merge
with love
moon
drops through midnight
love
was never yours
this floating world
bathing in clouds pouring
through the fathomless depths of endless skies
all of life happens utterly spontaneously and naturally, self arising and simultaneously self erasing, never actually crystalizing into some actual thing.
as it happens no one can say 'this!' is when a thought or moment or event begins and 'this!' is when they end. yet the belief and feeling of other better more and next persist....
the uneasy and, for some, downright painful feeling that something is not quite right happens when the belief of the solidity of things (and you and others) contrasts with an intuition that there is no solidity, there is no other, and no one has ever found a next....
that overwhelming feeling of utter emptiness may chase you around like a growly bear, and looking for escape or distraction may cease, and you whirl around and fall through the mirror, or crash, as the case may be....
and realize there are no sides and no middle, there was never any one to fall....
you and your world are consumed, obliterated and not even nothing is left...
yet the birds start singing in the morning and the day begins, the thought dream continues much like before. it is merely no longer believed, it no longer feels like life is happening to a someone or that there is a someone doing life...
it is apparent always that there are no things, no separate moments or events, and that this profound shift if perspective is uncaused, and simply a part of the dream with no meaning nor non meaning, ...yet the feeling of utter wow-ness,
the seamlessness of love is undeniable
the wondrous dance of it all
falling though your reflection leaves
shards of empty sky
tattered rainbow clouds flowing through echoes
burning
hunger for love smolders
underground
rain slides tears
underwater rivers flow
my heart was always weeping
softly
deluge of silence
tsunami of sound
shattered the barriers of love
ripped the sky from above
pulled the ground from under
suspended
without love
or love’s absence
joy and sorrow merged a long time ago
no longer does love have any meaning or non meaning…
and the sea crashed into and through its own wetness dissolving in its own magnificence....
love swallowed me whole
I exploded inside her
inside out
outside in
I was never separate from love
starlight falling through the lace of trees
ploughs the earth with footprints of sky
seeds are stories
consumed by the ground
greedily the rain dreams of star flowers
heart of love has no mouth
river of song flows without beginning or end
its all delta
ocean beckons
and cannot taste its own wetness
enchanted with the beauty of enchantment
reflections fall through reflections...
we walk together
alone
starlight dances
love
blooms and falls and echoes and echoes and echoes….
silence of silver moon
hovering beneath the horizon
waiting for the kiss of night
we are the story the song these very words flowing...
love kisses herself and we are the footprints of her sashay into darkness
bleeding into light
simply a dance without name or number…
no time to dance
no time to not…
fall deeply in love
with
love
all separation is the dream...
ALL this and that, all things, all separate moments and events are a thought story... there are no dogs or balls or fire hydrants without words. this worded world, this conceptual world is all we can know, as we are the dream
there is no escape, there is no outside to the dream, as inside and outside like all this and that is mentally fabricated.
when words flow explaining the made up world of cause and effect, it is not an effort by me for you to understand it, as this cannot be understood
nothing can be understood, as there are no things and no one separate from the dream who can somehow understand the dream or its imaginary separate parts
when I sing of the absence of things and non things, the absence of separate events, it is more like tossing a spinning rock across a lake and watching the ripples….
my songs may derail the usual train of thought and skip the mind stream out of the assumed grooves of knowing
you are asking to understand
and there are no things to understand, all is ideas, the story is that you are an idea seemingly trying to put other ideas into a picture of stability, of certitude, and there is no certitude nor a you to have it
there is no you to be it
nor an it to be
the idea that all is a story
is a story...
I can only attempt to describe what this feels like,
and you know we can never know what anything is like for another
we cannot even know what the color red looks like to our closest lover....
life feels like an edgeless center-less unitary liquid flow that is neither moving nor non moving... there is no feeling of separate things or personas doing this or that... more like water flowing through water
light pouring into and through light
space into space...
and the shimmering is so jaw dropping spectacular
oh look...
tears
looking to enter edgeless-ness….
that could not be found nor lost….
that could not be found nor lost….
and I could not hide
or find myself in the roundness of vowels or the folds of consonants
it is like love's rapacious hunger eats you alive...
it’s your blood your heart in her vicious unrelenting teeth
when she is finished she calmly lights a pyre and steps inside…
and when all is done
she sings your name
and you find your mouth moving
your limbs walking
echoes of love bloom into mornings
and doves soaring through the edges of your eyes…
and it all feels like love swooping and swirling into herself...
amorphous wondrous and beautiful
and there is no more worry about why love
why beauty
why this amazing passion play
this water color ballet
pouring all and everything onto a liquid stage of space and time...
colors slide off the page and the pages dissolve in endless love
written by shimmering rainbows sliding through cascades of colors
dancing
written with sky in sky
light in light
space in space
love
in
love
words dissolve into lines and squiggles and dance and laugh and ripple through their own absence
love is also a meaningless word that soars through its own vacancy
love seems to sing us as it obliterates us
but there is no pusher or puller of the universe,
nothing that is or is not love
fan tailed dove
leaves her feathers on the window
and it is love
it is this seamlessness that seems to be astounded at its own seamlessness
but that is only love
falling in love
with love
what is everything
what is nothing?
what is heaven
what is hell
what is beauty
what is love
what are these tears
streaming?
love is mad wild untamed beauty
this life this life this life
just as it seems to appear
this worded world this dream of knowing
is not separate from the dream of unknowing
what is there to know
when apparent knowing, this very languaging, this flow of words, seems to create the things that are known and a thing called knowing?
there is no outside to this edgeless dream
as inside and outside are more dream stuff
truth and falsehood
real and unreal
galaxies swirling
sun rising
sun setting
all is a dream ballet seemingly whirling into and through and around itself
pirouette of life has no other
there is no dancer, there are no separate steps
no outside where you came from, or next, where you will one day go…
time and space are illusion
illusion is illusion
welcome to the dream
there is no here or there
no one to be here or there
no one to accept or reject this enchantment
no entry no exit
we are this dream ballet
of wonder of love
of not even nothing at all
and her heart twirled so fast it became a slow waltz
of time and space and a forgotten bird song
landing softly in the darkness of crickets
outside her window
a blanket of moon
and shadowy caves where summer would hide until spring
and the beauty was the spinning and the stillness
and the hush that swallowed them all
as they plunged into the fire
and forgot about the dregs of tomorrow
that lay in their cups
the intoxication was complete
and her name was love
spinning all and everything into the fabric of aliveness
melting in love's fire
colors unfurl
flying off the pages of our lives
wings of our hearts
beating this
and that
the heartbeat of existence
without two we are not
without love....
I am not
we sailing in sunset bathed in the colors of unknowing
there are no reference points at all... no solidity... no liquidity
all is a swirling thought dream that creates itself….
and we meet
in the dance of this and that
that dances us
apart
and together
where we merge
and fall
in love
with the love of love
of one of two of many of none…
we are the wind and we are the spinning....
autumn leaves hanging in their golden splendor
bower of lace pirouetting across the ground….
and there is no ground upon which to stand or sky in which to twirl or need of wings or feathers or skin
underneath the skin of desire we are not
we are not
love is not
yet love spins her tale
spreads her wings
and the world of this and that is born
as it simultaneously dies
without ever having been
or not been
sky has brushed your cheek
where the rain fell last night
and the sumptuous of life
and the marvel of love
and the waves laughed and wept at their wondrous reflections in endless ocean of sky... flowers blooming into petals
falling
wind brushing light and color into the rippling seas
iridescence tenderly kissing its shimmering reflection
rainbows bloom and sail across the sea of dreams
skimming whirlpools of wonder into rivers of song
where nothing hides under the overhanging banks
and waits to be discovered
so all can disappear again into these very words that slid off the pages of your life as your life dissolved into simply life.... writing and erasing itself
dancing across your eyes
painting rainbows and tears and doves
floating to the ground
and the coffee maker
burbling
riding the tailwinds of summer
brushing morning into evening
and evening into night
no day was ever separate from night
no darkness nor light exists without you
and you are a moon song
sailing through eons of memory
are you ancient are you new
are you
at all
anything other than this thought stream
intimately humming your name?
vibrations of this and that
percolate your blood and bones
into a lovers dance
where no one is dancing
not even love
why does it feel like love?
there are no more why's
as there is no where
nor how
nor who
except that owl I might have heard late last night
he perches on the telephone pole outside our bedroom window
ripping the flesh of midnight mice
feathers
falling
down
memory is like a foreign movie where you used to know the language, and no longer care that you don’t, and that seems unutterably beautiful... the scenery slides into and through itself, layers of transparent magic seem to flow through a music that is undefinable….
there are no separate notes and no time or space upon which the music, the dream of life is painted, this is like love, but unlike any ideas of love…
I cultivated and was the longed for this immense all consuming unknowing, and the drifting songs of stars.... bursting into infinite colors that have no name except in the naming of them...
falling through endless oceans of color
softness soaring through softness….
there is no bottom or surface to the shimmering
no place can be found and none is looked for
there is no compulsion to capture this wind song
it's all the song of winds...
swirling drifting through echos of echoes of echoes...
and the beauty of sinking
stones
and hearts
and how love floats through it all
my heart is still and yet it beats
it is no longer mine
it never was
songs of yesteryear paint this flowing dreamscape
falling into a sigh
we are this sigh of wonderment
love songs drifting
threads of thought seem to braid this tangling dream
and simultaneously dissolve the enchantment
meandering river without beginning or end
shimmering pirouette of light in light
the spiraling unwinds in a circular fashion
whirlpools of water songs untie the knots that made them
love overflows its banks
flowing everywhere and no where
waterfalls of wind and tall trees dancing serenade the canyon
I sing
breathing
clouds
raining again
into rivers
you pull back the curtains
waiting for the day
that never comes
colors leak through the doors
stoking the fire in your heart…
every day you wait for the bus but it never comes.. towns and cities and continents fly by....
as your life falls from your footsteps
cricket song and dark smooth the occasional sound of distant cars
tsunami of hope and fear and deep deep despair break the sound barrier as it crashes through infinite mirrors that appeared to reflect a future
and a you in it
shards of light and dark shred all tomorrows
and eviscerate the past
stars rush in to fill the wake of silence
ever lingering
days no longer rush past
there is no place from which to view this dance of obvious aliveness that has no edge nor center
reds and greens flow into infinite feathers
dancing across your cheek
flowing through your mind stream
where all appears and dissolves in utter astonishment
this elusive all encompassing jewel of aliveness
is recognized as a center-less edgeless jewel
love spins around her own axis
in a wondrous pirouette of nothing and everything
merging and dissolving
in this very kiss
is the taste of sweetness more alive than this bitterness on my tongue?
the sweetness of love more alive than the despair of loss?
is it me loving you?
is this obvious vibrant aliveness a current connecting things and people? without imaginary separation there is no love
flowing….
from here to there
from me to you
as soon as we appear we are the longing (and fear) to dissolve into each other.... into this bliss of no things, where we do not exist....
if there are no things, there is no bliss nor love....
perhaps the zing of aliveness is this constant appearing and dissolving... life self arising and self erasing, never actually crystallizing into some ‘thing’, and it is this elusive wondrousness, this ungraspable magic that we all sense, and most fear
we become the trying to hold life, as we know it is indeed magical,
yet this emptiness we sense, as our hands, our hearts, cannot have or hold aliveness, they are this aliveness
this feeling of emptiness may swallow the imaginary grasp or understanding or knowing what life is....
the false edifice of knowing collapses ... and there is simultaneously the dream of things constantly, yet without time or the lack of time,
simply magically obviously happening without ever actually happening.... all a beautiful unknowing
ephemeral
light without light
space without space
love in as and through love
we are sideways glimpses of dissolving photographs
dissolving into the absence of moon
this aliveness, so obvious so untranslatable, so unapproachable so all encompassing…
wind flowers
falling
through
wind
~~~~~
no moon tangled in feathered black
under the grasses
waves wait for wind
love songs
softly
in opalescent dawn
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