Heart full of sky

Never tied
With a ribbon or a song
This heart full of sky
Has no chambers
Or shell
Nautilus whirled and melted
Into its own swirling
Iridescence flows
Love sings

No one awakened
No one was asleep
There is no one dancing with love
There is only love dancing




We are the essence of life flowing
This slow sensuous dance without sides echoes down the Grand Canyon of love.
These spaces these gaps these moments are imaginary
There is nothing which separates us
Only these imaginary faces
No one wears

I see your broken hearted beauty
Twirling down the canyon
Gazing at your reflection
Weeping
These tears are my persona
This laughter
This love

This banquet where no one feasts
Sumptuous
Life tastes itself
Sings itself
Through these lips this tongue this heart
That exploded and imploded into everywhere and no where
Such sublime edgeless beauty
That I am that we are
That this is

how could you not be the breath of love

how could you not be the breath of love

Moon beckons as it fades in the dawn 

No path leads to night 

I lay in the long summer grasses 

They wave moon-song into day 

Intricate fluid transparency soars 

Light and shadow and infinite hue

Colors streaming swirling dancing 

Hovering between the dream and the real

This obvious seamless song is composed of echoes 

They sing your name and you remember 

This lostness 

That was never lost 

That no one forgot 

In this timeless heartbeat 

That has no pause 

Yet is the hush 

The silence 

The love 

You 

Love has no measurement 

Nor sides 

Nor center 

What is the sound of love? 

Love needs no translation

Nor sky

Nor sea

Nor life.

What is the color of love?

Where are its eyes?

Look in the mirror

And see its face.

It is not owned

Cannot be captured

This dance 

That spins me across the shimmering

Shows me my reflection 

In your eyes.

A mighty river 

Has no ultimate source

The rain is so lovely this morning.

Pools of echoes sing 

Moonlight catches a glimpse of its beauty through our eyes 

our hearts our songs 

That were never ours

Life needs no one to push or pull it

It goes nowhere 

You cannot follow it

Or lead

A dance of shadow and light

Swooning into each other

Falling through the swoon

Is this very kiss

What is the sound of love? 

Love needs no translation

Nor sky

Nor sea

Nor life.

What is the color of love?

Where are its eyes?

Look in the mirror

And see its face.

It is not owned

Cannot be captured

This dance 

That spins me across the shimmering

Shows me my reflection 

In your eyes.

A mighty river 

Has no ultimate source

The rain is so lovely this morning.

Fresh mountain stream 

Rippling over rocks

Through grassy meadows

Cascading down lofty cliffs

Rushing through the canyon

Life streams

This stream is life

Its color is reflection 

Its sound is echo

Life is its movement

This movement is life

Thought streams 

Reflecting the morning 

Mind is its movement 

This movement is mind

I walk through the sunrise 

I cannot catch it

I stop by the river

I see my reflection

Not separate from the flow of mountains and sky behind me

Or the ripples flowing

Or the sandy bottom

I bathe in wonderment

Wonder is me

we are a streaming tapestry of memories, we are constantly being woven and unwoven.... 

ever blooming and wilting, a garland of memories washing in and out on the tides...

there is nothing but this flowing... 

and there is no one or thing flowing .... 

not even nothing in the center... 

there is no center

Love’s essence cannot be distilled 

Yet I am intoxicated 

Stars falling 

Blue in blue in blue in blue 

Dreams crashing 

Wet in wet in wet in wet 

No one would throw themselves into this pyre

To be consumed by their own love 

But after the stars fall 

You become starlight 

Blooming and fading 

And after your dreams collide with hope and fear 

Scattering moon beams into the sun 

It’s better than any dream come true 

There is a sublime fearlessness 

And a tender fierce love 

there is no ultimate truth nor ground of being, no flower that doesn't wilt. as you try to pick it, your hand and the grabbing and the flower are the same flowing fabric as well as the recognition of it. you cannot gather roses from this flowered dress. until these words seem to capture the making of this beautiful bouquet, there are no flowers, no petals falling, and no vase to contain them.

Knowing and feeling this sublime lineless-ness, still, lines seem to appear when I am dancing with other imaginary characters. Only with you can I find my feet, my eyes, my beauty.  Our feet, our eyes, our beauty. 

However this pseudo reality of this and that is never believed. Wonder subsumes the dream of knowing that this is a mentally fabricated dream.  I seem to appear, as the longing to sing of this surges into song.  Yet knowing that every word is a razor seemingly slicing up the sky, still I am the longing to point to seamless-ness, and ambiguous poetry seems to write itself.  There is never the feeling that there is a me writing as I watch my fingers on the keyboard even now.

'why am I' she yelled at the darkening day.

this can't possibly be it!!!!!!

I suppose it is the intuited knowing of our ultimate emptiness and aloneness that creates the longing for meaning and purpose

the projection of future is super for the species, to plan and make things... yet for the imagined individual it is heartbreaking, as they know deep down there is no future, yet most run around in ever faster spinning circles trying to ignore it.

and as many times as I say, this is it, coyote, most will say, yes I know, and continue to believe in other better more and next.

and I weep

my heart was a tight knot of fear

slowly it was ripped apart 

knives of fear fought with the dagger of hope

leaving not even love 

it poured onto the barren ground 

where my skeleton lay

bones white in the moonlight 

this empty shell cracked

nautilus unwound 

burst into sky 

not even a silhouette 

can dance by itself

I am nothing

without you

this heart was never mine

knowing that is to bask in the light and warmth

of a thousand suns

life is falling into and through itself

there is no place to rest

if everything is flowing?

who would rest

if you are this flowing?

there are no sides to this river 

it has no beginning or ending

yet has never begun

nor will ever be

there is great rest in this knowing 

that there is no thing to grasp

this slipperiness 

has no hand to hold even emptiness

not even your heart can hold this aliveness

that you are

there is sublime stillness

in this hush of  

whorls and ripples 

sunlight dancing

closer than your tears

your heartbeat

this thought

this most intimate of all knowing

cannot be ignored

this is it coyote

the price was everything 

to gain nothing at all

which was already the case

no one would choose to be eviscerated

yet I would have gladly given anything 

for this life without hope and fear

of a never arising next

pure silence 

seamless unknowing

radiant darkness

never hidden nor lost

need not be found

or uncovered

it is not underneath these words

nor inside the music

it is these very words

as you read them

that seem to hide it 

that contain it

this fire of aliveness

apparent in this very symphony of perception

that has no edges or center

as perception is inseparably perceived 

life seems to come and go

like a flowing river

but there is no where from which it comes

and I cannot find anywhere to which it goes

all thought about it is illusion

yet illusion is a thought

no separate things have ever existed 

nor have there ever been separate moments 

outside of the mind stream

nor even separate thoughts

there are no separate people

nor sun and sunlight

moon and moonlight

stars and starlight

lovers and love

I can see your face reflected

in the dark and shimmering waters

I can see clouds and sky behind you

I can see your beautiful longing

to feel this seamlessness

and I feel your fear of letting go of the belief in thingness

that defines you

for what would happen if you stopped looking for your reflection in the day dream of tomorrow?

what would happen if you could no longer trace your steps upon this path

that no one has ever walked along?

how can you travel from here to there

when there is only this that cannot be named

or captured as it has no sides nor features that can be grasped.

even here and now are names, illusion,

and you 

simply another name

pinned to an empty shadow

dancing in the moonlight

terrified of the dark

when you can no longer find a path or a tomorrow or yourself

There are no steps to enlightenment

where were the clouds to hide his nakedness
and this piercing blue
where was the smile
to hide his tears
to hide
the bite
the hurt
he could no longer deny

the paint on the window was a most liquid blue
yet sky could never be captured with a tear

trying to quench his thirst with sunlight
it sucked into itself
dry as a bone
an empty shadow danced on the water
until he saw the tender ache of his own reflection
Weeping


there are no steps to enlightenment
and no steps after
life cannot be traced
there is no past nor future

there is no one looking
no center or harbor to this edgeless sea
no wind that can be captured
no wave that is not ocean
no tears no sadness nor joy that is separate from you

enlightenment is not about not feeling deeply
oh my!
so beautiful, we get to feel it all!
it was never about your love
just love

the stillness of mind you seek
is the intimate knowing of this very immediacy
saturating the blooming of the flower
is its wilting
even though I live
my death is a most beautiful part of me

winter sings in the heart of summer


There is no key
Nor lock
Nor door
To slide-less-ness

The wall of belief, when no longer believed, loses its glue of hope and fear and becomes transparent.  Baseless brilliance shines through all and everything, knowing and feeling this edgeless seamlessness.  Always knowing that all thingness is made up, including you!  Some beliefs seem to fall away, some remain, yet none are believed.  Nothing feels solid. The passion play has no real center.  There is no more trying to find a source or understanding, to fill in the blanks as there is no equation that needs resolution, all feels complete in this delicious unknowing, suspended as vast ocean falling through sky.

The thought stream continues somewhat like before, yet it feels silent, like there is no one listening. You are alone as this silence...
There is no one in, or behind the mirror.


Morning fills the canyon with light and bird song
Piercing my eyes
My ears
My heart

No one is asleep
No one awakens
There is simply this
What seems to appear
It can feel seamless
Or not
All perception arises equally and evenly and is simultaneously inseparably recognized evenly and equally without any effort without anything needing to be done

The longing for tomorrow leaves on the dream train called time

This is our only home, this dream of dancing shadows.  Can you see your reflection on the canyon wall, sliding along with the moonscape, rushing toward the sea?

Can you see how every shared learned word paints the dreamscape into separate things and events? Even these words as you read them seem to paint a morning and a separate you.

But morning and the sound of the tea kettle are not separate, nor the light pouring through the window.  You’d have to capture life and put it into buckets to make it separate from you. But you cannot be separate from the attempt to capture it, this longing for solidity, this fear of unknowing, this fear of emptiness,
this fear of death.

The terrifying beauty of life’s fluidity is not a stranger to you, yet it creates a painful dissonance with the belief in solidity, the belief in other better more and next.

What we feared the most
The nakedness
To feel all this love we were afraid to lose
This impermanence
Is the beauty
And we are this fleeting flowing beauty.



even if you know you have never found a next, that does not erase the belief in it
there is no one who believes, there is simply belief
not someone who believes they are the doer
simply the belief in a doer, and the FEELING of a doer

When there is fear
You are it
When there are tears
You are then
This is intimate beyond measure
This is as real as it gets

you are the conditioning.. no one is conditioned
self is pretense yet there is no one pretending
What are you without the clothes of habits
Conditioning
Preferences
Belief?

there is utter nakedness
No one is wearing it.
there simply are no things nor non things... nothing solid or stable or fixed... no things to be changing or permanent

Without beginning or ending this fairytale that blooms and wilts simultaneously is this very unspeakable unbound lush rich beauty. 

I am simply a storybook character who seemed to lose her way as the pages fell apart and flew away with the wind. Singing soaring sky and blue into existence where memories no longer gather by the sea longing for the big wow.  It only seemed that there was a someone and a place to land. It only seemed like she had lost this heart magic...

It seems I am always weeping... tho you may not see my tears 

They have no time or name 

Joy sorrow love... nothing at all but this beauteous feeling of seamlessness... of edges seeming to appear yet feeling sublime edglelessness... 

Colors appear and swirl into wildflowers by the trail as my shadow precedes me... I fall in love with everyone I see... with thingness itself strewn across the vast unknown... 

Colors cascade down the canyon 

Echo on the walls 

Slide into your footsteps 

Sing these flowers blooming 

Dance these winds through your shadow 

Explode your very heart 

That the ink washed through 

That wrote the tales of last summer’s love songs

That etched your twirling silhouette into sky  

This sensuous lostness 

Of wind and sun and sky 

Soaring skinless 

Bathed with color and primordial melodies 

That sing these very words 

the film unwinds itself

celluloid transparency

painted on both sides

nothing in the middle 

erases the sides

no pictures caught in this wave

reflecting day above

dark below

kissed in between the wet

you drown in your own echo

sea shells worn with the rush and ebb of tides

reveal your seamless beauty

sea bird flies through cloud and sun

shadows drink the day

this sensuous lostness

pathless land

kisses you 

where never and forever collide

We are the impossible beauty of love’s simultaneous blooming and wilting.

rose petals falling

echo the wind

color the soft song of summer

breath of moonlight

sings of morning's slumber

in this garden 

winter sleeps

under the shadow

no one gathers light

it pools by itself 

drinking the day

…you scan all the tears you've shed for the ultimate words, but you cannot find this placeless-ness where you might be free... 

…you feel there must be a key to unlock the treasure chest of your heart, of what you know has been lost… you find yourself lost at sea… every path has led nowhere ...the storm you've longed for and dreaded hits... you are struck by the golden sunset that captured your dreams... your flimsy raft of beliefs lashed together with hope and fear collapses and you drown in the depths where hidden rainbows swim... and moonlight glints like silver fish within the sea of nothing… and in this watery home you find you can breathe.. and no longer trying to escape, you're home.

You had never left.  

Wind rises and ripples spill your heart to every unseen shore, and you no longer try to hold a part of it, for the fear of losing what never was spilled itself through you long ago. Unstained, the wine washed out and the intoxication never left.

All the ghosts and goblins, all that you feared arrived unbidden, and swept you away with the tides of unknowing.

You entered the dragons lair and were chewed up and spit out, and all the sparkling jewels were always reflecting your own brilliance, every nuance and hue, every song and footstep, every inseparable moment exploding imploding, yet never seen when you tried to see it.

Rudderless ghost ships meeting in the hush between the breath and the song.

Always simply just this as it is. All you ever thought you wanted sank to the bottomless bottom with your heart, and you rise through through the bubbles... surface into your own reflection, and look around. The wet has no beginning and no end. There is a tenderness in this for all and everyone for everything. A luminous diaphanous light gown woven with tears. 

After the shift the story still writes itself but it's like it is never read. No bookmarks placed.  No longing to peek to the last page or rewrite the first.  There is no one to pay attention to it anymore.  No one to say, ‘oh I should've done this’, or ‘oh my I must do this next’. No more trying to fix the story or predict the middle or ending.  The ever emerging edgeless momentary burns itself out as soon as it appears.  Like a shooting star we are the light emerging and simultaneously disappearing.  There is no one gripping and no things left to grip.

The sea sings, you are it’s echo, you are drunk on your love. It has sunk you and drowned you, and bled you, fed you to the ends of a shore that could never be found or lost in your heart.

This unutterable vacancy of even emptiness and vastness, and the mind shattering melancholic beauty of your ultimate aloneness slides through the mirror and into itself. The taste of this life without edges where sorrow and joy and love swirled into a heart ache that escaped the imaginary confines of an owner, of a home whose windows were broken long ago.  The looking out kissed the looking in, the mirror was found to have no sides, nor middle. 

Transparent crystalline endless blue fell through the ceiling as earth and sea crashed into sky. Blue into blue into blue into blue, and blue became meaningless. 

Mind conjures infinite mirrored facets inscribing the dream with unending wonder and unspeakable beauty. Coalescing as this flowing thought dream singing a story where the center has dropped out. 

First fallen leaves of autumn, scattered golden flowers blooming upon the path, nestling into the fallen feathers of wind shredded bark. Two children marvel at an ant carrying a bit of leaf and the mother marvels with them. I tell her she is beautiful. She smiles, and I catch a glimpse of my own radiance. Hot tears drying on my face, oh yes, here I am, waking along talking along singing these love songs with you. Love flows in this canyon of imaginary separation and paints our delicate tender outlines with this unspeakable flood of life kissing itself in a never ending always ending precious kiss. 

An unfathomable love of love's beauty sweeps through me in this always obvious swoon. Just as it seems to appear, feet padding down the trail, storm clouds blossoming, taking pictures for passersby, feeling deeply the pain of a lover, longing to soothe another's belief in the dream, knowing all I can do is love them, my skirt softly caressing my ankles, an unexplained tiredness, a jay song sings with the traffic, wind begins to ripple the late summer golden grasses into a pirouette as I wonder if I have a plastic bag for my phone for the coming rain, a soundlessness within sound, a seamless hush within the silence, a raw unadorned life of knowing this is it, always, sings through these very lips that no longer hunger for a tomorrow. 

Utterly satiated with this desire to sing.

 

Words can never catch this splendid beauty, yet beauty is a word. There are no love songs that will ever caress you as I long to, yet I sing. This life this life this life, un contained unfettered, beyond all ideas of freedom, all ideas of love, wondrous beyond belief or imagination flowing freely through me in me as me. Impossible to escape the dream but knowing it is a dream, and longing to sing of it, knowing this wordless song cannot be sung.

You waltzed into the sun's gaze alive fire blazing, lost, transfixed with unutterable beauty. This is knowing and feeling you are and all things are simply fleeting description. Even the knowing feeling that there never was a home nor you to leave it is the dream weaving and unweaving itself. Even these words as my thumb pats them on the screen is the dream painting itself. Only in this dance, in the Grand Canyon of love, is there beauty. It simply feels like there's nothing here, yet I am always rapt in my infinite intimate embrace. Joy love comfort love desire awe, familiar and new, this sparkling ache for what is, taps you on the shoulder and you whirl around and catch a glimpse of your beauty and emptiness as it flows through you as you. Everywhere and nowhere is home yet there is no home... extending infinitely outward and inward in every direction with no direction or time filling you emptying you. A sliding love poem singing itself kissing itself through your lips your song your edgeless heart.

 

Deep within the desert I lost my meandering footprints trying to lose my alone-ness, my lostness that was always on the tip of my tongue. 

I poured a thousand sorrows into a China cup and placed it on the window sill, and left it for the moon to swallow.. Diaphanous dragon clouds drank its iridescence and my tears traced delicate shades of unknowing into this paper heart that kept folding into itself as it was ripped apart by the recognition of my ultimate emptiness. I could not take refuge under the oak tree that stretched out its limbs to gather sunlight, as it was grown in sky.  All cloud castles crumbled, the scaffolding of hope that held up my world toppled. Dreams of another step were filled with a heaviness, and a sweet ache that was swallowed by the very earth this very song that blossoms into this color this sound this very light of darkness, this weight of light that swoons into itself within the racing river of my heart. No longer mine, this origami heart that was simply made of Imaginary lines drawn around a shimmering river of echoed vastness unfolded. All ideas of love flew away with tomorrow. 

Shadows dance on the sidewalk.

Midnight flowers bloom, night air sparkles and awe abounds. 

Love swoons into itself.

Love flows in this canyon of imaginary separation and paints our delicate tender outlines with this unspeakable flood of life kissing itself in a never ending always ending precious kiss.  This life this life this life, un contained unfettered, beyond all ideas of freedom…

Shadow of no tomorrow

sound of rain hides behind dark windows
moon catches a glimpse of its reflection in the storm's sigh
morning is clothed in white clouds
what is revealed by this silence
that has never left

spring rains bend the daffodil stalks
dripping with tears
their blossoms gone


such a lustrous ache... the delicate tender sensuousness of life streaming through you as you... love and love lost... sorrow, joy, how wondrous we can feel so deeply... 
...all of it a seamless embrace, a swoon of a caress from the inside from the outside erasing all sides... the mirror was lost in its own reflection and wept and wept at the beauty of its own tears...

without this and that what is there?
without the mirror of your eyes I cannot find myself
without these eyes, there is no beauty
nor love

nor mists swirling around the mountains 
settling in the valleys
waiting for the mourning sun



Always looking for the big wow 
I could never find it 
I was it 
life found me and kissed my imaginary parameters into a love song unlike no other...
Words simply petals falling swooning into their own softness
staves the lines that seem to contain the music
our imaginary lines bleed into a flowered curtain 
that was never open or closed
it is all a play 
light and shadow
and the scent of evening...

moon slides over the canyon walls
a bit of light still glows
drinking this precious flower
of this simple poem
where words melt into a flowing river 
spilling onto this page
here is my heart
it was never mine


she would throw back her head and laugh
it was a brittle laugh
I wept at her beauty
one day she revealed her sublime sorrow
I wept at her beauty
she never came again to our bench by the sea

I see her singing and laughing and pretending
I weep at her beauty

the sigh of oceans
never crossed

I miss her and love her
they are not separate
nor are we
inside the mirror
there is not even emptiness


We are empty echoes 
flowing description 
There is nothing underneath these words
No one having this thought
This feeling
This sensation 
This life
A seamless flow without even a tear in-between the wet and the river
The sound of no tomorrow sounds like this 

A thousand winters cannot erase the death of summer


clouds only appear to clothe your nakedness
who could wear the sky? 
who could wear the morning song
that sings you...

who could wear the dancing trees
or the wind 
or the arabesque of light
that swoons into the canyon...
who could catch the sun
as it runs up the mountain into sky?

who could wear this love
this sorrow
this intimate aloneness
that has no clothes?

these tears
that no one weeps
never left the river
it rushes roars and silently flows down the canyon
echoes its song on the tall mountain walls 
there is no source to this light this life 
it drinks me
as I drink it
I am intoxicated



I thought I could let loose this love 
But I am learning to step back
Like this ever present awe 
It sings, still 
These tears you may not notice 
Illuminate my eyes 

This slow sensuous waltz 
Light and shadow 
leaves trunks and branches 
dance in their own sea of green 
As dark mountain echoes 
Pirouette with sun’s embrace 
One red flower by the path 

This beauty loosed itself upon me 
Slaughtered me with its ravishing intimacy 
Pierced me with loves heart magic 
Exploding and imploding into fathomless softness 
Where all and everything is an arabesque of love. 

I love you I love you I love you I sing 
Earth and sky reflected in your vast eyes 
Where seas drink this tempest of love 

But I may just say 
Hello 
Or good morning 
The rakes of your discomfort 
Hurt me as well. 



Spring reveals a leafless tree
Clothed in clouds
Reaching for sun it can never drink

Winds will never dance with these gnarled branches
Birds may nest in its hollow crookedness 
The ones that need not hide

Nothing can steal this peace
No one can lose it 
Or find it
Yet death may follow a river of ten thousand words 
Sunk under its own weight 
Of trying to catch the sunrise

No one sleeps under the tree
In the shadow of tomorrow
No one looks for autumn leaves
In summer

This brilliance has no source 
Where no one drinks
Shadows dance with their own reflection
Wind sighs yet does not move
Without my tender cheek 

I am the love the lover and the beloved
Yet I need you to dance, to find my feet 
Come here, lets gather in the meadow
Where flowers grow on winters grave
All our dreams of summer 
Gone
All our dreams
Is this dream

Just a mile in your shoes is a lifetime in my heart. 

our hearts have always known and sung this song, yet we were too fearful to listen for we knew it would break us apart, shatter even ideas of love, and it did...  

For deeper than deep every secret hidden place there was a ripping apart revealing this most magnificent gem, infinitely faceted petals blooming and falling. 

sky falls down in tears

the river 

roars

softly

falling 

into the sea

Life happens as it does...

we are the singer and the song... 

the lover and the love.

We look in mirrored winds flowing....

we know it is us dancing...

love songs writing themselves with gossamer wing'd colored tears...

it sails through us as we are it sailing through endless skies

laughing

the crown topples off

the anchor is lost

drifting rudderless in uncharted edgeless seas... 

it is love's heart essence that fills your sails

as it empties them... 

playing tunes that have never been heard or lost 

spreading

everywhere

in and through you as you 

the dancingness itself 

was never found

yet felt deeply

they sang alone

together

disolv'd into themselves

she was the ache of the evening

the song of the sidewalks

the lovers breath at midnight

moonlight flowed through her

as she was the light

and the flow

and the morning song that hid in tall dark shadows 

sleeping

waiting for your lovers kiss

or your next breath

will leave you breathless

waiting for the words that will patch your broken heart

you will watch this love 

this love

this love

you feared to lose

bleed into the world

an empty dress swirls

covered in mirrors

you are endless sky 

and the morning glory

wilting

rain on rain on rain on rain

wet in wet in wet in wet

I am the rainsong

and the hush

of no tomorrow

river swells 

my heart bursts

empty songs

fill no silence

clouds do not hide the sky

nor rain these tears

nor darkness

this love

Even the emptiness fell out

This devastating realization that there are no things, no self, no other, no love...  is ravishingly breathtakingly beautiful, and heartbreakingly bittersweet.  The unstoppable symphony, the passion play, continues much as it did before, yet is never again believed.  Painted with sky in sky this all consuming brilliance is never not noticed. 

Still life dances and sings and does not move nor speak.  It flows and swings and dreams and falls in love.  There is a wondrous heart ache knowing that all thingness is illusion, that there is no one to love and no you to love, that all you have ever loved and will love are as real as tomorrow... 

That this splendid uncatchable river of song has no one or thing in it or outside of it to hold onto even one imaginary piece of sky. Such a sublime melancholy knowing you are ultimately alone.... that this imaginary dance of love, lover and beloved is made up of empty resplendent costumes, of sideless mirrors, of a vacuum of dreams where there is light and color, and music, but only in your eyes.  

Still there is a magnificence of feeling deeply as there are no boundaries in this nakedness.  No signs or notes to follow, no place to land, no dance floor to slide along to dance upon, to lie upon when you die.  Joy and sorrow and love and wonder have merged and become the backbeat of your existence.  There is a wondrous heartache for all that seems to arise, yet never did and never will, for that sad lonely girl I never knew yet still see her spinning on the dance floor looking for the big wow.  

Time shot an arrow into its heart and it was you.  

And the edgeless-ness pulls you in.

And you are lost forever. 

And it is sublime magic. 

You look around and lose yourself in the beauty, and it is completely beyond anything you ever imagined. 

And all description slips into nothingness, you are beyond any need to capture.

It is ultimate spaciousness 

supreme... vastness...awe...

I blink my eyes and the miracle is still here...

My very breath blows me away 

All ordinariness is gone 

There is nothing that is not spectacular.

There are no things…

Night lights to infinity, streetlights on the run. Daring dashing delightful, demanding you to play along.  Every step is unfinished, every song is undone, every story collapses under the weight of your own love. You call out with longing, and you call out with joy, and you call out with tears, and you call out and you call out and you call out without fear…

and there is no answer other than your very own heart song singing drifting desert sand dunes blowing silently along.

you are your own perfect lover 

held from the inside out in your own embrace

your own tenderness

your inside out heart

I wandered through a garden of sunflowers swirling in goldfinches, and ponds of sparkling song, looking for the other side of love. 

The kiss of a beggar hungering for her own lips, drinking silent sorrow. It was there in the softness of yellow, it was there in the swooping of wings.  It was there as I gazed at my reflection on the muddy banks where cottonwoods thrust their thirsty dragon feet into the wetness and stretched their arms and feathered hands into sunlight. It was never lost, this bursting heart, it only seemed to fade as I learned the names of color. 

Looking for winged moon glow, soaring as this sparkling river of memory, as infinite facets of yesterday. 

Doves hover by the feeder, one crashes into my window and leaves her feathered glance on the glass. She flies away into the garden and her magic of flight alights on my lips, for it is this kiss I have always been, the desire to dance, this song of life, as it sings me.

People ask me if I see as they do?
Do I see the way I used to see?
I look around and although I cannot go back, I can say, "well my eyes ears all my senses seem to be functioning the way they did before the shift, but the feeling tone is completely changed, as there is never the feeling of any separate things or separate moments. There's never the feeling that someone is doing life or that life is happening to a someone.

The thought stream has changed quite a lot as well.  There's no more constant self judgment and self correction, as I no longer see imaginary characters, including myself, as the instigators or being responsible or indeed separate from thought feeling sensation or action.
It feels like a wondrous seamless timeless flow. It was always that way, it was just never noticed.
As it is always this way there is nothing that can be done to make it anew.

It's a constant streaming insight of the utter perfection of anything that seems to appear. There is no more hope or fear or need of other, better, more, or next.
It is the end of all belief in belief.  It is the end of all belief in meaning or meaninglessness, of belief in truth or false, purpose or non purpose, freedom or non-freedom, or anyone to be free or bound.

It is the complete end of the belief that there is something to attain or someone to attain it.
It is life full on unabashedly naked.  Feeling everything deeply yet somehow impersonally, like being in a movie, a passion play that writes and erases itself, and watching it at the same time.
The utter indescribable beauty of life doing itself.

Cold spring rain 

Drowns the morning 

Ache of sunrise 

Floods the dark 

Where is the sunset 

And the night that swallowed it 

Where are the people 

In last night’s dream? 

There is no here nor there to look 

For nothing 

For everything 

No now nor then nor next 

When it will be found 

There are no lines around a moment 

Nor lassos around a piece of sky 

Nor a noose around your heart 

The whirls and swirls in the kitchen tiles look like wings 

Like turvey topsy love in a Chagall painting 

Sun and light warm the day and sparkle on the waving long summer grasses in my night time dream when my eyes are closed.

Just like this my world and I am painted.  

Color and light and that crest of the hill 

And the valley where I wandered 

Painted day dreams, no more or less meaningful than the night spectacle

Silent footfalls grieved the loss of tomorrow 

As I was poured into this sublime line-less being 

Transparent flowing brilliant liquidity 

Sublime emptiness was revealed 

When the vacuum of infinity 

Collided with the dream of me and time 

We are the paintbrush skimming echoes of reflections of liquidity in endless waters... Colors shimmer into a beauty that only we can see. 

We can never see our own beauty.  That is unutterably sad and beautiful how we need each other to catch a glimpse of ourselves.  

Life becomes a flowing liquid love scape, a sensual cascade of infinite jewelry flowing in you through you as you.

He was the ache of the evening 

The song of the sidewalks 

The dark encroaching 

And the pool of light

He was the Nighthawk swooning and the sirens blazing 

The hush of the evening and the hush before dawn 

He was the song of the dancers in the empty bar hall 

The crickets love song and the chorus of the sprinklers 

Empty footsteps in the night

A gossamer light gown shimmering reflections 

Intimate jewelry sing of day pouring into night

Mountain stream 

Does not shimmer or sing 

Without a listener 

River needs its banks to flow

Love requires imaginary twoness 

A dance of one in love with itself

This desire paints my echo with sky in sky...
This longing to sing what has no words or melody yet contains all words and all melodies...
tears
So beautiful these reflections of love’s echo

Ancient arabesque of time 

Extending infinitely without direction 

Swirls around my footsteps 

Moves through my shadow 

Falls through my fingers 

As if it never existed 

Where was I going? 

From where did I come? 

Where is yesterday’s shadow 

As I wander here today? 

Time bleeds through the cracks on the sidewalk 

Creeps through the windows

Puddles on the kitchen floor 

Footprints of blood 

Going nowhere 

Never marked a path 

Nor caught a piece of today 

If I am loves memories 

What is my shadow?

If there is no next 

Where will it go? 

Time dances with itself 

I could never find it

It was simply a magician’s tale 

As was I 

A beautiful flowing story 

In love with love 

the incredible journey no one took
no one arrived
nothing was left
even the emptiness
fell out