We are the dreams that no one dreams

 

the story is seen to be a story
including the seeing of that
the endless searching backwards and forwards and up and down and looking for a sideways entrance or hidden exit ceases.......
there is no looking for a source or end point or any place to rest .... no knowing no certitude is sought... there is no one left to know... and no things to gather together into an imaginary understanding...
this turvey topsy loop de loop is a most wondrous liquid web of thought that has never caught or created a thing... 

and the unrelenting peace ....the roar of silence...  the fathomless hush... suspended as spaciousness...  
breath dissolves into this kiss of sky 
in sky

I Skyped with my Dad this morning and we were both so happy to see each other and hear each other's voices... and I miss him so
and I love missing him and loving him... 
this tremendous ache of our humanness erases all division....
love is the story of our lives




we are the imaginary I's of the world.

somehow there is a knowing that there is no separation, no reference points, no one big thing to be separated no fullness and no emptiness, and yet I am a reference point.
a prism of liquid memories where thought is translated into a world a universe of assumed knowning.... and all thought all words refer to other words,
thought spins a web of light and dark and
colors....

and no I can be found, and no looker can be found and no things whatsoever can be found
or lost
no things to be changing or permanant... no time nor space nor the lack there of...
a dream of drifting shadows playing in the sun...
and yes, its all about me and no me can be found
without a mirror... there are no reflections...
no mirror no looking glass can be found as there are no sides nor middle to this dream of infinite wonder...
it feels like the girl that longed to find love peered deeply into the mirror and fell through...
and every shard filled with her reflection as they eviscerated her and all belief in the dream that she was....
I seem to be a reflection an echo a thought dream
a pirouette of light and shadow and
color....

a seamless three dimensional light and sound show without beginning or end and not having any actual substance....
there is no one watching the show that is not the show
there is an underlying ease a hush that has permeated the dream. it cannot be pinpointed yet it is felt always.... is this the love i longed for? am I this longing? 

it seems like this girl this woman these fingers that tap on the screen are simply singing, 'hello here I am, lets dance‘, for without you I am not... and I love dancing with you although there is no me nor you
and I love loving you although there is no love
for all we can know is what it is like for us
we can never know what the colors look like to another
even our closest lovers...
and there are no colors...




I love you, like the sun and moon soar across the heavens and light and shadow soar through my heart
and love is a word that has been tattered into shiny streamers catching the wind and images of us

dancing

down the sidewalk

melting into the river of our lives...





when there is sadness and grief you are it... there is no special awareness to get or have or be....  this is just the obviousness of knowing sadness 
Of the immediacy of this recognition of aliveness whatever it looks or feels like 
And there is already and always this 
Yes? 
And I love you and there is a knowing of this love... a knowing of knowing...

The knowing of knowing is this imaginary separation the dream of duality that we are...
Awareing of awareing.

And without imaginary separation there is none... just naturally spontaneously without any effort or non effort this is always obvious 
Yes?
Your fingers on the computer or phone and watching the letters appear... there is a feeling of the tips of your fingers tapping the screen and there is simultaneous immediate inseparably a knowing of that.

it seems like it is the belief that there is more or less or other than this is the barrier to this... the belief in another side is the gate...
there is no gate....

life simply does itself and looks and feels like anything at all




after living for years in our car, without a mirror, i stopped looking... after the shift it was weird the first time i looked and there was no feeling like... 'that's me!' ...just this streaming three dimensional light fabric.... swirling colors falling through rainbow water falls... 

and I post tons of selfies... lol. and my husband thinks I am beautiful and wants to take my picture all the time, and I think he is beautiful but he doesn't want me to take his... and we have never had pictures of family on the walls, just our paintings of faces... and big mirrors in crucial places to help increase the light in our dark trailer.... 

and it is wonderful and feels like love to fall in love with every one I see... and I cannot imagine how someone could not be beautiful.... one look in their eyes and there is a recognition of our shared broken hearted beauty... this beautiful longing that we are.... 

and I write this and I am weeping as peoples feeling of not being beautiful is their beauty and really, we can never see ourselves as we do not exist.... we seem to appear only as reflections in each others eyes... this delicate wetness... these tears... simply words sliding from the tips of my fingers onto a screen that have no meaning nor non meaning yet seem to dance love and beauty into the dream that we are




what sound
these wings of love
through the tall tall pines
a mother a lover a friend
an unknown wanderer
searching for a bit of sun
voices barely remembered
lullybye or cradle crashing
young buck with small antlers eating the fallen leaves




and the wind sighs across pools of echoes
and the hush 
suspended
never leaves the wind

notes of un-singable beauty
slide off the staves
the music is undeniable
there is no where you cannot feel this aliveness
trying to hold the sounds in your mouth
is the singing of its roundness
and the fullness and the emptiness of wind
the inside of a flute you will never see
the inside of love which has no sides
fractals of unspeakable seamless beautygrow and recede
flow through echoes of words never sung
always heard
wind blows
tears fall
all and everything seem to emerge and disappear into
this
very
kiss





where is the space the leaves fall through
pages of our lives
falling

where is the breath that carries the song
where is this song
where is the wind
where did the sigh of moonlight go

we are a river of longing
flowing into edgeless ocean
without our banks we are not
and with this movement
and gravity
comes death

an imaginary journey of meandering reflections
echoes of shimmering behind and before us
blood and breath, life pouring through tall dark forests
deep dark canyons
sunlit meadows
cascades of smiles
and tears

what can be said about a story when the telling of the story is the story? 

I am the longing to share this beauty this love this... un-nameable this-ness which has no that-ness... and the words are beautiful in their missing of the pointlessness of the very singing of the absence of meaning and meaninglessness... I want to pour this beauty this love into you but you already know this, you are this beauty this love ...this love that has no words yet is all words...

somehow life seems to sing itself as my fingers slide across the keyboard and leaves fall 
slowly
in the garden and the wind
sighs
and there is no space in which life happens
no emptiness nor fullness nor anything in between
neither real nor unreal
nor both
nor neither

and out of this indelible blankness come the words 'I love you'




I loved the dove print in the window... but I love clean windows tooooooo
I love the fallen leaves
but I love as swept path tooooooo
I love the spider webs and dust
but I love the shiny wood grain tooooo......
life happens all by itself
sometimes I find myself dusting
sometimes not



walking on top of the cliffs above the beach
bits of broken glass color the path
lovers walking along the beach at sunset and the shore birds... flying...
carrrying the sunset out into the ocean so it would color the sunrise...

and she watered the flowers knowing they would freeze that night...
sometimes rain falls without clouds





and the hush before morning
empty of light
empty of sound
empty of wind
empty of love
this hush never leaves
never came
never left
inseparable from this song
is this undeniable aliveness
the hum the hush saturating the dream

first tires on the road
distant still
or maybe it is the autumn wind
memory fills in the blanks...
and it is all blank

thought paints the colors of night
and the wonderworld of day
words spinning twisting twirling weaving this enchanted web
fluid light
liquid love
pours through itself and feels real
and I am as real as you and tomorrow and love

real, un-real, surreal...
simply overtones that have no source
this is the world where we bathe in wonder
moonlight shimmering is a dance of reflections
like love
welcome to the home you never left
ancient songs fill in the emptiness
that erased itself when love died

can you islolate love
is it in your heart
in your chest
in your body...
can you measure and weigh it
how much space does it require
is there a place behind your heart
what soars what plummets
what drowns
how can words capture what is in between them when in between is a word?
....love is a word
word is a word

and the stars
and the ebb and flow of autumn winds

this is all of us... all of humanity weeping laughing dancing loving.... who am i but this loving this feeling deeply this sharing of our humanness.... 

it is a marvel that we can feel so deeply the heart ache of another... and the imaginary lines seem to dissolve in these tears in this heartache this longing this love we all share, this love that we all are... it is the core of who we are and we can never find it as we are it.... 

i dont have children yet i weep for all children.... i weep when my friends post the dogs and cats that need adopting... i weep when i see the beauty of love and the pain and suffering of all humans.... i recognize our broken hearted beauty in everyone's eyes... i always go for the eyes....

am the longing... it is a generalized ache... when it is not I am not.... sometimes there is just blankness.... but mostly there is both.... and it all floats in wonderment... what is it that I want.... 

I am the longing to love you to touch you to pour through you so we can flow together in love as love through love.... and these paltry words are all i have they sing me they write my lines I am watching them appear now and my fingers slide over the keyboard and the coffee maker burbles and the finches and sparrrows and doves are out in the cold feasting before the grey cat comes along.... and the day begins, colored in by memory... liquid transparancies flowing through each other....

standing on the edge of the horizon
swallowed by acres of moon
layers of memory float through each other...
no focus can be found
bathed in infinite colors
no color can be found


standing on the edge of the horizon 
swallowed by acres of moon
layers of memory float through each other...
no focus can be found
bathed in infinite colors
no color can be found



we are painted hearts soaring through rainbow winds....
breath of love sighs in your empty chest....
wonderland of colors fill in the blanks
and it is all blank....
there is no empty canvas other than the warp and woof of words
weaving emptiness
weaving fullness

no one sings the words
no hand holds the brush

the brush dissolves into its own strokes
paint dissolves into colors without substance
words of love dissolve in love...

and we are this dancing
this pirouette of thought
whirlpool of words in a river of words
a silhouette of wind
in wind




and the passsion play continues... people are born and fall in love... fall out of love... some are wounded in love, some are wounded in war, some recover, some don't, ....some get sick, some recover, some don't, ....we see our friends and lovers get sick and die, we are all dying.... and this is the dance of life of love, this is the only dance in town...

and there are no dancers and I am a mad dancer a mad lover
wounded in love
wounded in war...
seeing everyone as a purly innocent....
we are  
inseparable 
in our broken hearted beauty....

and
simultaneously....
there is a deep peace subsuming the dance...
an unassailable silence pervading the song... 
a hush of unknowing among all this assumed knowing... 
lovers may be fighting and yet
the sun flows on the flowered carpet... 
doves alight on the feeders
and fly away when the grey cat visits....
this three dimensional flowing light show of seamless ease is always obvious... 
this unfathomable aliveness that seems to appear like anything at all........
no source
no maker of this amazing dream of you and me and
we
and there is love
yes this love that seems like a paltry word to capture this overwhelming feeling of wholeness of unicity of....
well, love

and I seem to fall in love with everyone I meet
everyone i see is unutterably beautiful
and pure
and dying
like me



this is the song of all of us... all of humanity weeping laughing dancing loving....
who am i but this loving this feeling deeply this sharing of our humanness….
it is a marvel that we can feel so deeply the heart ache of another... and the imaginary lines seem to dissolve in these tears in this heartache this longing this love we all share, this love that we all are... it is the core of who we are and we can never find it as we are it….
i don’t have children yet I weep for all children.... I weep when my friends post the dogs and cats that need adopting... I weep when i see the beauty of love and the pain and suffering of all humans.... I recognize our broken hearted beauty in everyone's eyes...
I always go for the eyes….
am longing... it is a generalized ache... when it is not I am not.... sometimes there is just blankness.... but mostly there is both.... and it all floats in wonderment...
what is it that I want?
I am the longing to love you to touch you to pour through you so we can flow together in love as love through love.... and these paltry words are all I have, they sing me they write my lines …I am watching them appear now and my fingers slide over the keyboard and the coffee maker burbles and the finches and sparrows and doves are out in the cold feasting before the grey cat comes along.... and the day begins, colored in by memory... liquid transparencies flowing through each other….
standing on the edge of the horizon
swallowed by acres of moon
layers of memory float through each other...
no focus can be found
bathed in infinite colors
no color can be found




autumn night falls into the garden
hush
naked branches hold the dark
maybe there will be snow tonight

dream arms reaching...trying to escape the dream... dream lovers loving.... trying to hold onto love...
storylines weave time into the dream
liquid words flow through your mouth your breath your mind your heart
circle a piece of sky where you see your face
a silouhette of echoes
mirrors dissolving
into vowels and consonants that no longer cast a spell
or a shadow
or light

they dance their dream time dance and you are the enchantment
the magic
the jewel the prism the heartbeat between the in and the out
hovering between the story of love and the story of not even nothing....
stories flow through stories... 
and its all story all dream a cascade of wonder falling through acres and acres
and acres of tears



morning slides through these poems
I am a call and answer love song
words caress and paint the flowing dunes
and no hill nor grain of sand can be captured
liquid dream scape sings itself
wind sighs
and the desert answers the wind's request

what is this that these words cannot hold
a feeling of sensuous aliveness
an unravelling of the most luminous tapestries
into threads of golden
the threads dissolve
and the shimmering remains

words without a voice
without paper or screen to deliver them
nor eyes nor ears to hear them
nor heart to hold them
I give them all to you

they paint me and in them I dissolve
it is this nakedness I love
that no one wears

in this very kiss
as you are reading my song
it becomes our song
and we dance in timeless wonder
sharing our heart songs
we become each other
this is the intimacy of love





a million suns explode in your heart
leaving nothing but echoes
of sound
flowers

ancient prayers unravel
petals flow across the barren ground
gather in the puddles of your footfalls
waiting for the wind

words without breath
songs without sound
what is life
without longing?




only through the aperature of us, the imaginary self, the brain dreams the dream of things





sun melts into his own heat and light
moon slides through her own shadow
brilliance of a diamond shimmers yet has no center
cold clear morning
the stillness never recedes

doves sail into the garden
I can feel their warmth and softness through the window
I see my face in yours
feel my hands as yours
thoughts feelings gestures...
when you weep
I weep
looking out
looking in
I can no longer tell who or where or when or why and no longer care
it feels like a concert a sympony a chorus where no one leads or follows.... a union of all and everything when there are no things
nor non things... nor one big thing....

these movements these thoughts these feelings do not belong to anyone
they are as real as the moonlight shimmering in our dreams

we are the dreams that no one dreams

So Do You

 the end of extraordinay and ordinary feels....

extraordinary
the end of heaven and hell feels...... like heaven
the end of mundane and sublime feels.... sublime....
the end of this and that and love.... feels like love

these words that write me pour through this prism that I am
I am this ego this persona this imaginary dancer of wind
sliding through the long low morning... 
down the canyon
across the desert
pooling in the chorus of my heart
gently combing the garden
where prayer beads fell off their strings long ago
and scattered in the dirt...
finding the low muddy places where tears still fall

golden leaves on the terrace
sometimes I sweep them off
sometimes not



feathers of sunrise
gently paint the garden with winged shadows
and light
colors bloom softly slowly as you bleed into the day time dream

when does the day begin
where does the day reside
in the garden 
in the canyon
in your mind
in your chest
where you feel the dove's softness

she balances on the feeder
she does not look at you
the window is a reflection
where your face dissappeared as light tip toed into the other side
sliding into rainbow tears
a day unlike any other begins
colored with the memories
of all the days that never were



words and the imaginary spaces in between fall through the emptiness of my heart and pour through the roundness of my mouth... they spill onto this screen, the sole light in this dark room until I untie the curtains and my reflection is born...  dark glass holds the night and my floating reflection basks in the pause before morning.... 

scraps of memory tie the wind to the rushing sound of trees..... I can feel them, outside, dancing in the garden.... I can feel the birds, sleeping in the plums and tangled roses where they are safe in their bird land dreams....

the tips of my fingers tingle as they slide across the warmth of the keyboard on this chilly morning while my husband sleeps.... his steady breath perfumes the night and reminds me of the warm blankets.... still waiting.... 

through the darkening I can hear the trash truck coming... up and down the neighboring streets... the rumble grows the storm waits patiently on the other side of the mountain and my tea grows cold as I read and respond to the messages of lovers....



suspended as emptiness in emptiness
as love in love
your heart slides into mine... we disappear in boundless love



these words paint me
paint you
paint this dream of love and love lost

thought paints me
cries me
spins me into this web of echoes
where light seems to be caught...
but it is only reflections
filaments of joy and sorrow
heart strings softly in the wind
bend and stretch and sometimes break
overtones reverberate into a hymn of utter silence
prayer beads unfold into rose petals
blossom into liquid light

we know this song by heart
it sings me
sings you
sings us into a chorus of lovers
a sea of dreams
dissolving into its own wetness
love
drowning
in love

web of thought
caught in its own enchantment
I may wash the windows
and dust today




ideas of words slide through words
reverberate between the sides of a mirror
melting the glass and all reflections
the ember of unknowing burns through its own light
sky dissolves in infinite reflections of sky

some leaves fall when they are green
some are golden
hovering between the words and silence
suspended as a liquid kiss
between the known
and unknown


this obvious aliveness
not in anything
nor outside of nothing
no words can capture it
as it is a word
words are pieces of sky
sky is a word
this alivness seems to look and feel like anything at all

the hush that never leaves
is the disbelief in thingness
and yet when sung of seems like an thing inseparable from all other imaginary things
like the blue in a sapphire
or the heat in fire
it is the blue and the stone and the person enchanted with the star floating in her ring
it is the fire and the heat and the light and the lovers warming themselves
and loving the warmth and the love

it is the love and the lover and the beloved... 
and there are no three nor two nor one nor none...

it is all illusion
even love
but
this feels like love suspended in emptiness
the hush super saturates the dream
and is the dream
all is illusion
illusion is illusion

and you thought I was going to tell you what is going on
I seem to arise in the loving of you
but there is no here nor there
the loving of you is the falling into you

and we dissapear
into the hush
we never left



it is amazing how much hate mail I get when I post an opinion! people assume I don't have opinions and judgements, when, well, I am opinions and beliefs and preferences just like them. judging is natural as it is quite necessary for survival. is the orange fruit harmful or helpful? how about consuming animal foods? will wearing a face mask help or harm me? how about crossing that busy street from corner to corner, or should I use the cross walks?

...then I post what I consider to be a beautiful poem and get a handful of likes... lol! where were all those people before and why were they my 'friend' anyway? lol!

it is sad that many people assume that I am or should be special, more special than them.... when we are all beautiful liquid stories written with the same words... there are only twelve notes but look at the amazing music that pours from musicians...

some assume that there should be no talk about 'other teachers', yet I find that people ask questions and I am honest about what I feel... that there are no teachers as this cannot be taught. and certainly there is no one under belief and preference or thought or feeling or... simply no one choosing to speak or not... to listen or not... to sit here on the computer enchanted with these words sliding out from underneath my fingertips...

here the hush before dawn never leaves... it feels wondrous beyond measure to fall in love with everyone I meet... to feel so deeply the amazement of love unlike what I thought love was before this strange un caused shift in perspective... to be suspended as timeless spaciousness.... a waterfall of colors sliding through rainbows ....dissolving into seamless sky....

I am not everything nor am I nothing.... there is no one to be everything or nothing, and no things to be or not...
very few are interested in what I say, but there are some listeners.... and that is wondrous as without someone reading these songs there is no singer...

I am the singing of this as these songs sing me... knowing that all these words are simply lines and squiggles sliding across a background of time and space.... and can never touch what I would like to say, which is said most simply in these three most beautiful words, 'I love you'.
and I do
I am the loving of you
without you I am not.





slowly slowly grey cat yawns
golden finches in the roses and doves on the telephone lines
peer into the garden

softly softly day unfolds
paper bird stretches her wings
words slide off the paper sky
sky is a word
love is a word... 

memory paints the garden
adorns these words with overtones
vibrating into this dream of aliveness
thought sings a ricochet love song
the knowing of knowing...
within this imaginary gap we seem to appear

we are liquid prisms
water colors sliding into a song that listens to her own echo
and is enchanted with with the spell
of her enchantment



we are liquid reflections falling though mirrors
steam rising from my coffee
passing cars in the dark 
words form my lips
all and everything meet and disappear into this kiss
where time eclipsed itself

moon sails through the morning
and our echo-less tears sail through the transparency of love 



no I can be found, nor someone looking for a self, no things can be found, no this nor that nor both nor neither... this does not mean that there is an "I" that is beyond description. the feeeling that there is a me or separate things has gone.
this is not a belief, more like a disbelief, a delcious unknowing,,,, yet obvious always..... it is clear that all imaginary separation, all distinction, all measurement, all qualties and characteristics arise in the thought stream, no thought no things, not even a thing called thought.



sunset
blooms and falls
all distincion fades in night's embrace
this deafening hush
never leaves
roar of the ocean in my chest
rivers of song pour through this edgeless heart
coming from everywhere and no where
these words that caress the dream into light and sound
and color... 

sunrise blossoms
petals of moon
eclipse
golden leaves falling
and the purple sound of wind



words slide through an envelope of space
rose petals pressed between the pages of our lives
there is no hand to turn them
no eyes to read them
no one who writes them...

morning dove left her imprint on the window
her flight interrupted
feathers
falling
she cannot be found


moon falls into the river
echoes of laughter slip into
deep
cricket
night

cottonwood leaves and wind
sweep through my heart
no one waits on the other side of time


light and dark
sound and silence...
there is and is not an in between an in between of this and that, and no this and that...
beyond place and placeless-ness
beyond time and timelessness...
we cannot go there
we do not exist beyond here and there....
there is no here and there nor the absence of a here or a there
there is no beyond....

and perhaps you have been looking to escape this illusion that you are... and all the while you are the illusion of trying to escape or improve this magicians tale, to grab the pen writing the story of your life where these words are written with water, and the pages are
water

and the story goes that some brains seem to believe in the story they tell
and others seem to believe the dream but not that there is a person inside the dream
and others seem to disbelieve the entire shaboogie... that realizing that all and everything is the dream including the realization of that....

that there is no other better more or next... and even the words
'this is it'
slide through their own echo leaving not even a silence that cannot be captured with or without words....

and the fairy tale girl peered into the mirror trying to see beyond her reflection and the mirror dissolved.... as well as the girl and the room and time and space... 
they never returned, they never existed.... 
there was never a never

and I am that fairy tale girl and I seem to appear in this dance suspended between never and forever... 
a pirouette of echoes
that no one sings or listens to

and my husband makes coffee and brings it to me
and the overwhelming beauty of the cup and the coffee and the steam
and him....
and the room and the mirrors and the memories sliding through each other coloring these very words that write themselves
this dream that dreams itself
just like this

in this present that no one recieves

the ribbon that that tied real and unreal into a pretty bow may untie itself

and unwrap all stories of truth and fiction

all promises of another day slip into the mirage of never and forever

here is the pearl of your own undoing

layers and layers of luminescence unravel

revealing a measureless emptiness

where a naked heart blooms

into the beauty of longing

there is no meaning to this story

but you know it well

you are this paperless rainbow

strewn across the sky

stars

falling

into their own light

there is no release from the enchantment that you are

your heart may soar

in innocent wonder

or it may plummet into the depths of despair

the heart of the story is that you are this gift to yourself

life unfolds into itself

endlessly

without time or its absence

all your wandering this endless desert left you nowhere

and no where is where you began

every sign led to another sign

all the words that seemed like love letters

slid into sand

all the books you gathered together for a raft

never kept you afloat

all that you learned

gave you no release from this desire to end desire

to end your search for wholeness

but your desire for wholeness is already whole

how could you be separate from desire?

when the present dissolves

so do you

Cartwheeling in the wind

 last breath of moon

the sound of no tomorrow
and the falling leaves


the words that we are.... that this known conceptual virtual world is....
seem to create a universe of this and that, and a backbeat of time and space.... 
if I call this (all and everything that seems to appear) a magician’s tale or a dream
or even an appearance 
it seems like I have told you what this is..., but what if there is no this to be anything or nothing? 

all these Answers will either satisfy your longing to know or not.  
why don’t they....
because there is an intuited knowing feeling of the great maw of emptiness that seems to be following you like a hungry dog... 
trying to swallow you and your world... 

you are these assumptions of what you are and what you are not
what the world is and what the world is not... 
why would you what more knowing? 
because there is no actual solidity…

when all questions cease
....the sails have collapsed the wind is gone 
the ship is sinking and there is no ultimate bottom upon which to rest 
there is not even an ocean 
or a ship
or someone to be swallowed….

no dream no dreamer no ...no ideas of what or where or when or how or why... 

such a delicious unknowing
no longer is there someone grasping for handfuls of air
no knowing can be found
no air
no hands

yet this mentally fabricated world, this worded world, this virtual reality, this dream of separation seems to continue…
it is known that this is the only world we can ever ‘know’
we are conceptual beings living and loving in a conceptual world…
this is where suns and sky and trees and wind exist
this is where we seem to emerge 
only in each others love light can we seem to find ourselves….
this is where love and beauty live

simultaneously, inseparably, there is not even nothing at all
and love
and everyone you meet knows their ultimate aloneness 
you can see it in our eyes
this is our broken hearted beauty
sharing it is beautiful
this is love


handfuls of morning coarse through your mind stream
painting the path of yesterday upon the wind and leaves
falling
into pockets of starlight
where galaxies wander
their empty arms swirling
longing to touch another's light

this devastating emptiness 
burns a shadow in the middle of the sun
it consumed your heart long ago
before you could remember to remember
this love that no one could ever be
this love that we are


gently 
gently 
sun

softly 
softly
tears

ancient song of whales
vertebrae in the sand
broken shells
wind

where is the dream when you are not

liquidity of life flows through itself
press a rainbow into the folds of your heart and it blossoms
tattered prayers
confetti of love
wind born colors fall through the lines and pages of of all the books you combed through
looking for the words that would turn a key and open your heart
that was never shut
that was never yours
that could never hold a moment
or love



the dream spins itself... there is not even nothing under or inside the enchantment that we are



Spring in fall
Fall in spring
Breath of my lover....




self is a fluid labyrinth of concepts, a river of thought with seemingly stable whirlpools of memory....
all words have no meaning, or non meaning... meaning is a word... words are concepts...
take the word tree, it seems that you know what a tree is.... but it is a concept that seems to encapsulate a bit of this symphony of perception into a box colored with fluid memories....
the memories that you are are unique...
you are the painted dreamscape that memory creates..
your ideas of what trees are and what they are not may be different than mine...
as there are all kinds of trees, yes?
under or inside the word 'tree' there is not even nothing.... it is a thought, a shared learned word, and words paint a worded world, a conceptual world, a virtual universe made of thought and a seeming you inside this world...
without memory trees are not...
without memory the universe is not...
without memory you are not...
this thought dream has no substance... like the dream you had last night... where did those flowers go?
where did that kiss go?
where did that lover go?
the light seems as bright in the night time dream as the day time dream...
where did the light go?
where did the night go?
your ideas and memories of what love is and what love is not may be different from mine, yes? yet we seem to agree on what trees are...
and love... well.... is there a shared knowing when there is a shared language... is there a knowing at all?
or is this all assumption...
is self the assumption of knowing?
the assumption of solidity...
is there any place to rest in this thought stream?
are there separate thoughts?
gathering fallen petals and pressing them into a book...
opening the book of love you find the lines that paint your image on this river of memory.... dissolving into our own reflection...
we are love's echo
love is a beautiful word that seems to capture a feeling
we seem to feel deeply...
is there a feeling and a you feeling it?
can you capture and hold the river of memory if you are it?
what is love... what is beauty?
perhaps this unknowing itself is beautiful...
perhaps the longing to know what life and love feels like for another is love...
perhaps knowing we never can is our shared broken hearted beauty...
perhaps knowing we are this longing to touch, knowing we never can is love...



we are this longing...there is no one having it to take it personally or not... and it feels super complete in itself....
the knowing that we are utterly alone gives life a bittersweet beauty...
this is the broken hearted beauty that we all share... 

....knowing we all share this... is love




handfuls of morning coarse through your mind stream
painting the path of yesterday upon the wind and leaves
falling
into pockets of starlight
where galaxies wander
their empty arms swirling
longing to touch another's light

this devastating emptiness 
burns a shadow in the middle of the sun
it consumed your heart long ago
before you could remember to remember
this love that no one could ever be
this love that we are





stars seem to wander
lose their familiar faces
the known world a dream
forgotten
the unknown a dream
remembered

swooning in ungraspable beauty
and the empty autumn leaves




the words that we are.... that this known conceptual virtual world is....
seem to create a universe of this and that, a backbeat of time and space.... 

if I call this (all and everything that seems to appear) a magician’s tale or a dream
Or even an appearance 
It seems like I have told you what this is..., but what if there is no this to be anything or nothing? 
And all these Answers will either satisfy your longing to know or not.  

Why don’t they....
Because there is an intuited knowing feeling of the great maw of emptiness that seems to be following you like a hungry dog... 
Trying to swallow you and your world... 
if you are these assumptions of what you are and what you are not
what the world is and what the world is not... 
why do you what more knowing ? 
Because there is no actual solidity...

When all questions cease
....the sails have collapsed the wind is gone 
the ship is sinking and there is no ultimate bottom upon which to rest 
There is not even an ocean 
Or a ship
Or someone to be swallowed....
No dream no dreamer no ...no ideas of what or where or when or how or why... 

low hum of vibrant aliveness
like electricity running through your veins
the sky
and the shimmering leaves
this is as real as it gets
sur-real
un-real
real-er than real
this is all we can "know"
knowing there are no things to know
nor anyone or thing to know that....
such a delicious unknowing
no longer is there someone grasping for handfuls of air
no knowing can be found
no air
no hands
yet this mentally fabricated world, this worded world, this virtual reality, this dream of separation seems to continue…
it is known that this is the only world we can ever ‘know’
we are conceptual beings living and loving in a conceptual world…
this is where suns and sky and trees and wind exist
this is where we seem to emerge
only in each others love light can we seem to find ourselves….
this is where love and beauty live
simultaneously, inseparably, there is not even nothing at all
and love
and everyone you meet knows their ultimate aloneness
you can see it in our eyes
this is our broken hearted beauty
sharing it is beautiful
this is love




late moon
shallow wind
long shadows slide over the hoof prints in the garden
pools of night nestle among the legs of headless sunflowers

what is love
what are petals in the dirt
what compels you to wear this empty night
softly softly words dance
creating light and shadow and and this all pervading silence
meaningless questions rise and ebb leaving a wake of sublime unknowing and no one to care or look for an answer to the song of autumn
as she caresses you into the folds of October skies

stars seem to wander
lose their familiar faces
the known world a dream
forgotten
the unknown a dream
remembered

swooning in ungraspable beauty
and the empty autumn leaves




Where does the full moon rise
Where does it not?



canyon morning
wind
breath
sometimes rain
sometimes tears
sometimes doves on the ground
sometimes on the feeder
silence is not a thing to be remembered
or forgotten
these ears these eyes this broken heart sings 
we are the song of our aliveness
naturally ease-fully life seems to appear
magical, isn't it, that we can love so deeply?
just like this
sometimes a blue jay



who weaves the flowers of our brokenness into a garland of echos?
what unravels miles and miles of stars into this heat of reflected light?
I was the wandering among falling stars
the longing to hold love's fire

nothing will keep the stars from dissolving into their own light

bittersweet, life is the taste of love
beautiful, that we cannot see our own beauty
and that there are others who can
as we are their reflection, 
they are ours
there is no source to this light
spinning
dissolving into itself

and the little girl slept
dreaming of dreams
and all the shooting stars she had never seen


I never saw a shooting star as a kid

I thought all the kids were fooling me

as I had never worn my glasses to sleep when camping




love is this circular beauty
an endless loop of liquid mirrors
dissolving.....
thought seems to paint light and color and lines....
spiraling around an empty center
and we emerge
and dance
in each others reflected light

you are the dream of all that you seem to know
summer blossoms falling into autumn
cartwheeling in the wind


And my heart aches 
And my heart aches 
And I am this achy breaky heart

feathers of sunrise

gently paint the garden with winged shadows

and light

colors bloom softly slowly as you bleed into the day time dream

when does the day begin

where does the day reside

in the garden 

in the canyon

in your mind

in your chest

where you feel the dove's softness

she balances on the feeder

she does not look at you

the window is a reflection

where your face dissappeared as light tip toed into the other side

sliding into rainbow tears

a day unlike any other begins

colored with the memories

of all the days that never were

We are love’s intoxication

 

we are love’s intoxication

what is wetness itself? does it exist alone? what is a what? what is the sound of your heart breaking ...your empty heart pouring 
your skinless eyes weeping...

...this love exploding into a delicious wetness saturating all and everything ...erasing all and everything ...including love.... and we seem to appear in this love light... dancing in the rain
this sensuous wetness
drinking itself
we are love’s intoxication

there is a knowing feeling of no thingness inseparably with the feeling of this all encompassing love...

and it gives the imaginary persona a life of unbearable beauty... this infinite intimacy is far more wondrous than I could have ever believed or wished for or imagined
this raw naked un-owned life...

falling in love deeply with every one I see... feeling our great aloneness... our shared humanness... and it is beautiful!
this is love

arising and dancing in each other’s love light
knowing we are each other’s echoes
each other’s reflections
no origin to sound or light

no self
no other
no love
just this day dream of love swooning into itself
through our eyes
our lips our ears our tongues
through this song
through these words 
all and everything seem to appear


turning twisting spinning chasing tales of light and love
she found she had spun a web of darkness
looking for the ground of being she was swallowed by the earth
and sky
and any place to land in between

she quietly slipped through the dream of solidity into the dream of liquidity
...no way in
no way out
no forward no backwards...
time loosened her grip on the wind
...wind sailed through wind and dissolved into echoes of sunlight
pouring through the river of dreams

dancing in the dark was utterly light filled
empty footfalls gathered tears and slid into the scent of wonder
blossoming and falling with every step
nothing but thought to set sail upon the sea of dreams
she never needed special sight to see....
there never was anyone behind the eyes of love

these poems sing us...
the dream dreams itself
tears
fall
oceans of wind soar across the desert and embrace all and everything in this waterfall of love





you are this description... this thought stream made of shared learned words
and that is description
the worded world the 'known' world... the magician's tale... the conceptual world...
no one knows what is going on as there is no one separate from what seems to appear to know it or grasp it or see it


all distinction all measurement all time and space and dimension ....all this and that are seemingly created by thought... there is no universe without thought... no laws of nature actually exist... they are mentally fabricated like trees and suns and galaxies spinning...



some claim to be uniquely 'awake' to what seems to appear... and yet how could you not be awake? is there any separation between the seeing and the seen? isn't it obvious that if you don't feel awake that you are awake to that feeling of not being awake? the feeling that someone has something that you do not... or that you have something... or that you want something...

and you do not quite know what it is... only from books and lectures have you heard of this elusive thing called enlightenment... but all things are thought created... when thought ceases all and everything and you disappear... why would you want roses to disappear and colors... and love... and you and me and enlightenment....




the poem of morning contains small sparrows hidden in the rose bushes...
petals of their song pirouette into the garden
doves flying up in front of the window
graceful wings fan tailed beauty
I can feel their softness
and the gentleness of flight as they soar
effortlessly 
into sky

all of life happens without effort or non effort
simultaneously self arising and self erasing
without time or non time...
you have never found a moment have you?

the poem of morning sings itself
thought sings you and me and the doves blossoming splendor
and things called silence and sound and poems
that seem to write themselves
just like this life appears
no one or this is making it happen
from the outside or in
can you find an outside or edge to what is going on?
if life has no edges is it a thing?
can you step outside of life?
if there is no you separate and apart from this life
are you a thing?



I am a fairy tale lover a dreamscape of love and love lost bathing in the scent of yesterday's rain

how many days and nights has it been since the illusion of solidity slipped into a pocket book of memories along with the reader of this treasure book of love
overflowing with dried leaves and petals and 
vast unending seas and mariners tales
of a sailor who lost her compass and the stars and the sky
as the waters consumed their own wetness

I can mark the day when time died but calendars have lost their meaning
all numbers all measurement all this and that were only the light and dark of numbers and letters sliding off the page
I dissolved into tears
tears dissolved into
ocean song
ripples
waving
sun dancing
pirouette of wonder like a breath of moonlight
whirl pooling into and through itself

we are love's memories
utterly alone we light the universe with our eyes
love melts our shadows
and burns our light

we are shooting stars burning our own brilliance
never beginning
never landing
bathing in meadows of ancient sky



I am a liquid dream of fluid memories...
and memory is also what seems to be happening 'now'.... 
images dissolving and coloring in the novel of 'my life' that writes itself, sometimes seemingly backtracking or leap frogging forward.... all a great unknown... a marvelous un-know-able....

memory is all I can know... there is no outside or inside to this dream that seems to feature a watcher of the show, but somehow it is obvious that all of this echo land ballet is not real or solid or even moving...

memory colors in words with infinite echoes.... regressive images and sounds and feelings...  so saturated with a feeling of what is not a thing as it is everything and no thing, I call it love... 
love caresses all imaginary things and events with an unfathomable softness... a gentle embrace from inside and out.... forming imaginary lines as they blur once again into a dream without time or space... or any sides or between... 

there is no one separate or outside of this flowing dreamscape to manipulate it or allow it or reject it or capture it... it is not an it... there are no its... 

memory is an idea as are all things.... I am memory... I am an idea... 

what is this thing called enlightenment but a nice idea
....like you?



you cannot manipulate or allow or reject thought as you are it

you are the story of knowing you are a story.. knowing this is not the end of the story... as endings and beginings are a story



sun sets into the growing twilight
darkness awakes, gathers her skirts and leaps into sky

she slept all day under the roses
not noticing the golden finches and sparrows hiding in her dress
or the wind playing leaf shadows across her face
she didn't see the fallen petals in the grass
and the neighbors cat creeping... 
she didn't hear my longing for the cat to return and display his feathered softness

silence is the song of our vanishing
words flow and paint the world outside
and in
and that line in between you and your reflection
between you and your echo
a line as thick as thought
trembles and breaks when thought is no longer believed
no source to the echo of reflections
other than thought
no thought
outside of thought

will there be stars tonight punctuating the blanket of darkness
autumn skies seem colder harsher more stark than the summer...
but they are just the same...
just like love warms you
no matter the back beat
the underlying story
love caresses both dark and light
love and love lost are the waves of the dreamtime ocean

this and that is the carpet of stars
falling into tatters of dream fragments
memories you seem to pick up and examine
but they are you 
that shell you held and pressed to your ear
marveling at the sound of your own blood
rushing
rivers
rushing into an endless sea of wonder

and we will never know...
will this be the last night of cricket song
...when is it not?



long moon night
echoes of ancient tides soar across the canyon
I seem to be here
....an echo of what has never been nor will ever be...
I can taste my heart song as it blossoms in your eyes
petals of wonderment 
fall
into 
wind
as we watch the dance of thunder crash on distant shores
listen to the caress of early autumn skies
and feel the nakedness of trees
still clothed in the splendor of summer

wind has no source other than thought
words spin the dream of tree tops dancing
and us walking through acres of moon
pirouette of love soars through this story
as it collapses into the dream time of memory
trails of forgotten shadows slide into night




how wondrous that nothing can be known as there are no actual things nor anyone who is separate from this thought stream to know it....
how wondrous is wonder...
only in this apparent double take 
this spinning thought dream is there knowing of knowing... 
only in the dream of separation is there knowing of unknowing... 
....amazement of amazement... 
only in the dream is there love and the knowing of loving....

love is never lost
or found
her caress is her song....
your song
this song
singing itself through your lips

this ever emerging ever dissolving thought stream seems to circle back into itself spinning the fabric of our lives
weaving wing-ed wind song
wind and mind exist only in their own apparent movement
...movement and non movement are thought
thought ceases and you and the known world disappear
why would you want to stop thought?
why would you want to erase the sky....

not feeling separate from thought there is no feeling that these shared learned words painting the dream of separation should or could be altered
it’s like thought has become part of the symphony of perception,
taken it’s place in the flowing dreamscape of this sensorial banquet
there is no one speaking it... thinking it... or reading it
there are no 'its'



and love....
her song and her ripples are so beautiful 
your heart aches
breaks into a thousand echoes…

sun dancing skipping playing across the surface of an unfathomable sea
liquid light slides through your mind stream
all is soundless echoes ricocheting across an edgeless formless ocean
acres of sky mirror your emptiness
mirror of water swallows the sky
mirrors of mirrors 
broken
pieces of light of love sailing away... pages of your story....

memories of love were shimmering reflections you tried to hold in a corner of your heart
like a treasure
like a spear
like a hollow place you longed for and feared
the great emptiness killing you softly

echoes have no substance
nor do words
nor do thoughts
what happens when all thought is known to be empty
when you and all others and even love is known to be thought

and the candy sprinkles are so sweet dissolving... the taste of taste... the deliciousness of not knowing what sweetness is
what life is...
what love is....

there is a doubt less knowing that there are no things nor non things... not sweetness nor taste nor love nor life.... yet life and love taste so sweet as the words caress your tongue and fall through this edgeless heart where no one danced in a moon less night.... no one sang of the wonder of love...
no one fell through the lines between day and night..., light and dark..., as all boundaries were erased so were you...
as all words dissolved so were you

the story dissolves into the story of dissolving...



and there is no you nor waves nor deep deep ocean... but a silence that is singing in you though you as you and yet....
no you can be found... edgeless seamless seas rise and fall...
a chorus of love that has no discernible words... sings the dream of you and me and we...
you find your heart mouthing the words you longed to hear your entire life...
'welcome home... I've missed you... I love you'

there is no one in the labyrinth of words that spin the dream... no one who is spell bound... we are the enchantment...
and that...
is enchanting...



Before the shift I was the belief that I was an unchanging thing called timeless awareness 
It seemed obvious that I had not changed since I could remember... some beliefs and preferences had changed, but the underlying constant was awareness.... I certainly was not those unreliable unpredictable thoughts and feelings and actions! 
The shift made it clear that there was no one or to be awareness and that there were no things to be changing or permanent, not even awareness or consciousness.  Yet This is what many teachers teach... you are not that little puny self with those pesky thoughts and emotions, you are this far grander thing called awareness! 
And if you do this or that (rest as awareness, etc.), you can realize this also.
It’s obvious that all trying or trying to not try perpetuate the illusion of a someone who is going somewhere, getting something (or realizing something), and that there IS a next a better a more an other... 
and there is not. 



and we are this love.... that has no words that is all words... sky written... with sky in sky.... 

softly softly stars fall through our eyes and we walk through acres of starlight... where is the end where is the beginning to this galaxy ...light ....spinning without a center... how could love find an edge to love.... how could hearts be separate, it is only the letters that look separate as they flow across this light filled screen... as vowels and consonants bathe in our mind streams and seem to form a river of thought... but no place can be found... no words can be isolated, as they become meaningless without other words... all thought refers to thought.... 

the illusion spins itself there is no hand under the cat's cradle no fingers that pull the puppet strings... no strings to hold the stars in their place... they have no place in the swooning of light into light.... 

love exists only in our eyes.... and I can feel your heart beating as it is mine... no one can hold this love ...it seems to hold us.... gently ...in this story of sky swallowing itself... what does that leave? 

what does it mean when time loses her shadow as autumn winds gather fallen leaves in the gutter... along the sidewalk where I walk... flat feet softly padding... breath.... and everywhere I look the universe appears.... and there are no lines between the stars.... no lines between imaginary things.... 

and we are imaginary dancers floating in this dream of love.... dissappearing as soon as we touch.... as a kid I would swing higher and higher... longing to hold the place where up met down.... suspended as weightlessness.... where all and everything kisss...... and disappear.... just like this breath this song this unfathomable wonder this story of love singing itself...

self is a fluid labyrinth of concepts, a river of thought with seemingly stable whirlpools of memory....

all words have no meaning, or non meaning... meaning is a word... words are concepts... 

take the word tree, it seems that you know what a tree is.... but it is a concept that seems to encapsulate a bit of this symphony of perception into a box colored with fluid memories....

the memories that you are are unique... 

you are the painted dreamscape that memory creates.. 

your ideas of what trees are and what they are not may be different than mine...

as there are all kinds of trees, yes? 

under or inside the word 'tree' there is not even nothing.... it is a thought, a shared learned word, and words paint a worded world, a conceptual world, a virtual universe made of thought and a seeming you inside this world... 

without memory trees are not... 

without memory the universe is not... 

without memory you are not... 

this thought dream has no substance... like the dream you had last night... where did those flowers go? 

where did that kiss go? 

where did that lover go? 

the light seems as bright in the night time dream as the day time dream...

where did the light go?

where did the night go?

your ideas and memories of what love is and what love is not may be different from mine, yes? yet we seem to agree on what trees are... 

and love... well.... is there a shared knowing when there is a shared language... is there a knowing at all?

or is this all assumption... 

is self the assumption of knowing?

the assumption of solidity...

is there any place to rest in this thought stream?

are there separate thoughts?

gathering fallen petals and pressing them into a book... 

opening the book of love you find the lines that paint your image on this river of memory.... dissolving into our own reflection... 

we are love's echo

love is a beautiful word that seems to capture a feeling

we seem to feel deeply... 

is there a feeling and a you feeling it?

can you capture and hold the river of memory if you are it?

what is love... what is beauty? 

perhaps this unknowing itself is beautiful... 

perhaps the longing to know what life and love feels like for another is love...

perhaps knowing we never can is our shared broken hearted beauty...

perhaps knowing we are this longing to touch, knowing we never can is love...

Wondrousness of love

 

Love kisses herself through your lips 
she says ‘I love you’ and it is the echo of your aloneness.... 

we are the brain's preferences... isn't that wonderful?
I go to an island inlet with my husband, shell hunting.... and there are only shells... waves crashing and the roar and suck as they drag the sea worn shells in and out.... vast sea and wind and rocky cliffs and it is all beautiful... I cannot imagine picking one shell out... and yet
after a few steps... I find a particularly beautiful piece and watch my hand reach down.... and revel in the softness of hardness
of sea and wind and my hands and these ancient shells... the softness and hardness of life... inseparably this emptiness and fullness of love... this timeless dance of wonder... the way light and shadow caress our lips singing this enchantment of a three dimensional love song... 

and we are this love light... dancing.... twisting twirling into and through each other's love songs...each other's love light... no words no tears no songs are owned... all and everything magically appearing just like this...

this is an edgeless symphony a chorus of one with many apparent voices blending rejoicing in their own splendiferous sounds... 
this music of life itself basking in its own loveliness...

we seem to appear and meet in this love song... only with imaginary separation are there different notes.. and intervals in between them... this music of love requires imaginary separation... this dream of you and me is an imaginary canyon that has no sides.... but you can hear your echo dancing on the cliffs and in this imagining there are other dancers other singers and spaces between us... where stories emerge and fall into our edgeless hearts.... l am these stories these love songs sung by no one sung by everyone.... it is the song of our wondrous humanness shared that resonates and we are its overtones... 
tears and laughter and tears.... 

dipping into the waters of love we find ourselves drowning in love's magnificence...



edgeless heart
all encompassing love
those tears were never yours....

as you chase love she chases you
falling into your own reflection 
nothing is found
neither here nor there nor in between

you are a love song the universe sings
this rushing roaring river of oceans is your heart
breathing the tides
you are this dream this virtual reality this hologram of infinite rainbows dissolving into sky....

dreaming is empty 
awake is the dream
describing words with words seems to weave a circle of knowing
and a someone in the middle singing these words that write themselves
trying to find the center or the edge of knowing is the dream spinning itself...
there is no center
nor edge
nor dream

we ask is it real
what is real
but a word
immediately and intimately this is intuited
but cannot be known
the store front is from an old western movie set
there is nothing behind the facade
no things to buy
no purchase or handholds
no reference points
no pointless-ness

and what then, you may ask, when this is realized?
simply easeful enjoyment of this humanness we all share
this love that blossoms endlessly
without time or non time

petals falling
drifting along the sidewalk




empty bliss
blossoms blooming
multi-petaled  light falls softly through the morning
gently dawn teases colors into the garden
empty now
of golden finches
sunflowers wait....

I am memories of rainbows painted on windows when I was afraid of the cold dark winter
and the rhythm of spring sighing through the snow
terrified of nothing
of everything
lest the puzzle dissolve
lest the words disappear into the darkness

hanging on to any scrap of hope for love
when it was found the terror abated 
for awhile... 

but the emptiness was never filled
it can never be
I am the emptiness I feared
all is empty
all is full
there is no one to be this or that
all is super complete and wondrous
no matter what it looks like... 
or feels like
there is no trying to capture feeling
no one or thing separate from it
feeling is the story
the story is the story

we are the story 
this love story
that swings and dances through these words
sharing our stories we see that we are each other
no one exists alone
no one exists...

we are this love light dancing
I can feel your radiance bathe my heart
and in the sparkling we seem to emerge
just 
for a brief moment
we are the eyes of the world
catching a glimpse of our own love and beauty
ricochet of love
kaleidoscope of wonder
love dissolves into itself
speechless she sings
I love you
we are beauty weeping at its own magnificence
love weeping at its own beauty....



sieve of starlight drinks the rain
liquidity of love swallows you
empties her echo into your shadow as you slide across the garden 
falling
into
flowers

erasing all
embracing all
love slides through me
the touch of your heart
in mine




ocean falls into sky
sky into ocean
horizon tips over and you fall through your own reflection

falling through rainbows
colors dissolve
falling through sky
sky falls through you
falling through the falling
no one is left to fall
there was never any place to land
no air to breathe
no one to love

suspended as infinite nothingness
without time or timelessness
life seems to continue
no longer believing in the dream is the dream
there is no emptiness
there is no fullness
nor anything in between

rising up through oceans of sky
bursting into the roar of echoes dreaming
wind and light soar through you
and you are wind and light soaring
there is no need to look for light or shadows
bathed in liquid moon



finding nothing here, nor there, nor anyone looking... 
not finding a here nor there nor in between, I cannot say that it boils down to I am, we are, or this is.... 

yet, life, for us, is description, is words.... is this love song that sings itself...

and the mountain dawn is reflected in the hubcaps, backwards in the mirror through the window, while canyon winds rush through the garden rivers of oceans roar through my chest...
pour through this mouth these teeth these lips this tongue that has tasted life's indelible sweetness that lingers in my breath, these words that have no utterer, seem to spill into the river of love which overflowed its banks long long ago...




wind breathes itself
sky bathes in its own blueness...
tears fall through their own wetness
love letters written in the dark pleading for light are never answered
no hand writes the story
no one waits for an answer
there are no answers
or questions

this tapestry of flowing
cannot be reduced to warp and weft of sound and light
the threads have no beginning nor end
they weave themselves as they disappear... 

impenetrable intimacy of life swallows time
infinite emptiness without emptiness is an idea
thought cannot go there
there is no where to go
all thought dissolves into letters
strewn like stars across the vastness
falling
burning in their own fire

light dissolves into its own brilliance
space erases its own insubstantiality
love seems to flow into and through itself
but there is no flowing
no love...

galaxies exploding into infinite wonder
love feels like that



trying to separate the stars from sky leaves star mirrors gliding down your cheeks...
neither separate nor joined life is all of a peace...
edgeless seamless wonder falls through its own amazement
leaving echos of shimmering that ignite your heart
this searing brilliance consumes you
and all paths toward this light

no one strolls in this starlit dream
yet we seem to meet in this love light
and bathe in the shadow of moon
breathing in each other's echoes
the taste of love remains

we are memories
shooting stars
burning




And you may look and say, “Hmm, I can find no thing which thinks, no thing which feels, I can find nothing inside that is the doer of action. And yet that will not erase the feeling that there is something solid, something unchanging, something permanent, the feeling of an inside and an outside. The feeling that you are a thing surrounded by infinite other things. Perhaps this is because the very looking perpetuates the belief and the feeling of someone who looks.



and what of love?
surely that must be real....
what of yellow butterflies
and golden sunsets
what is golden...
what is the meaning of beauty
what is the meaning of meaning

tales of sorrow and joy are empty
as well as the story teller
love is this dream of wonder slipping through a dream of space and time
time is the dream of butterflies soaring through the mind stream 
delicate petaled wings of thought
space a feathered wind that slips through its own breath
this dream that we are has no edges or compartments
I seem to be here
and you there
without the story of space and time we are not
how would we twirl across this mirage if we could not touch?
how can we touch if our lines are imaginary?
if our lines are made up
what does that say about us?

the dream unravels and the tattered threads cannot be caught
we are the infinite colors of this tapestry
the words in this fairy tale of wonder

sweet sublime unknowing never slept
it cannot awaken
there is no sleeper
nor dreamer
eternity is empty
emptiness is empty

but love, love is the dream that seems to pull us together
in this pirouette of thought
and in loving you
I recognize this love light that I am
that you are
that this is
is love the dream?
yes
is it real?
what is real but a thought
what is thought but a thought...




long windy night
low moan of moon 
sky wanders through the lace of trees
you hold your breath...
or does breath hold you and seem to halt this dream called time you never could find

this immeasurable momentary that has no beginning nor end
nor middle
seems to explode and implode and erase all boundaries...
there never was an outside to all this was there?
never was a before or next... 

yet breath seems to resume and the timeline begins
the wheel keeps turning
and you long to be suspended as beauty again... 
this sensuous lostness...
were you ever lost or found?
can you find that person who wandered late last night
or was she just a dream...
where did the darkness go?
was there ever a night blossoming into this wondrous dawn
stretching her arms across the horizon her chest rips wide open
...heart exposed
you drown in her light
she bathes in her infinite reflections
liquid sun dancing on the mirroring sea

gull skims the waters and you can feel her wings
every feather elegantly tuned to the sea and sky and wind
your fingertips quiver
as you soar through the river of reflections
that have no origin
or destination

when are you not this dream of infinite echoes
the wind feeling its own softness
through your skin
the earth touching its own hardness
through your feet
sky swooning through its own light
through your eyes
love kissing herself
through your lips
life touching tasting feeling its own aliveness 
through you
an imaginary prism
a window between an imaginary inside and outside
a skin of thought
painting a world of light and color and beauty and love

time seems to hold still or move
and there is no one separate from this apparent ballet of life
dancing you
dancing me
dancing this pirouette of love

whirl wind of thought seems to spin
to weave this enchantment of today and tomorrow
but there is no tomorrow
you know that



lustrous night
awash in the dream of light
moon is suspended in spidery threads
filaments of thought spin the dream

powdery wings of the night moth brush your face 
the hovering
swallows the hush
that never entered or left the dream of the summering moon






we are not love
there is no one to be love
and no love to be...

we are sourceless echoes in a canyon of reflections... 

words flow and paint this river of love that has overflowed its banks... all is consumed in this flood
all measurement all distinction all ideas of this and that and you and me and love and beauty, all lines that defined perfection and imperfection are erased... all lines between an imaginary past and future and this thing called now dissolve... 
the boundaries between joy and sorrow melt in the liquidity of love

hope and fear simply memories of a desert dream where you wandered as thirst itself, looking for the source of these waters you were but could never drink...

love swallows the ocean as she swallows herself

we are mental fabrications... less substantial than thought... we are imaginary selves... personas... a flow of words... memory preferences belief... that no one has... 

this shift does not happen to the imaginary character, it is a profound shift that occurs in the brain...

love is also made up... as are all things... this worded world this virtual reality the dream of separation is the only place where we exist, as concepts in a conceptual world... 
this is the only place where love and beauty live...




this searing delicate intimacy of life seeing touching tasting itself through you.... 
you are love's mirror, utterly transparent, 
you do not exist without imaginary separation
you cannot see yourself, as reflections are simply reflections... 
there is no one looking...
no one to see
what is in between light?




so many non dual speakers go on and on about how there is no self
who cares?
there is no love either...
nor mountains or trees or vast infinite sky...
ya cant even say 'this is it'
as there is no this nor that nor both nor neither...
and there are no its
no things or non things...

so what about this thing called enlightenment
remember there are no things
no selves
and therefore no one to become enlightened... 

no separate moments, no time or eternity, no never... 
so no future when this imaginary persona will get or not get enlightened...  

so many hear that there are people who seem to be 'non selves'
wow that sounds good!
to not be this puny little fellow with these troublesome thoughts and emotions... 
maybe I can become a non self!
or even, as some teachers suggest...
an enlightened self!

how can a non self walk along the trails of a non existent mountain?
or hold the hand of a loved one as they die
...weep as if their heart will break
and recognize this broken hearted beauty in everyone they see....

how can a non self see the wonder of rainbows
as they dissolve into sky
how could a non self see this unicity
how could a non self love?

all that seems to be going on is a mentally fabricated dream
just like the dream you had last night
where did all those characters go
where did last night go... 
where is today
or tomorrow
no one knows what is going on
no one knows more about this than you do
some seem to rest in a most delicious unknowing 
some not... 

but there is no right or wrong way to feel or live or love or die
and we all do
live and love and lose love and die
and well
love is just the best part of the dream
it soothes the great aloneness we all share
and I love you
and I love you for that

there is no choice and no one choosing how life feels... separation felt or not... cause and effect or not... purpose or not... meaning or non meaning... 

and really no separate feelings from which to choose...

all is a mentally fabricated thought dream simply self arising and simultaneously self erasing....

there is no one to be liberated from the self and no self to be liberated from... 

we are the dream the thought stream made of shared learned words but the stories that are written with these words is unique

we can never know what life feels or looks like for another... 

how colors appear to another... the very idea that there is another is an idea... 

we are this great aloneness... there is no escape from the dream of separation that we are

in sharing these stories we catch a glimpse of our own wondrous humanness

we seem to be mirrors of each other and seem to arise in the sharing... in the love...

I can never know what love feels like for you

and this is the great mystery and wondrousness of love...

To love is enough

 
















to be a human being 
To love
That’s enough 


softly softly love embraces itself through your naked arms and you dissolve into yourself
there is no one left in the mirror to look for her echo
liquidity of light pours through its own reflection and there is no source to this river of wind and light and love which lingers on the tongue in the heart in the empty halls of memory

life has overflowed its imaginary sides and although it seems to flow all by itself it is really not moving nor still
yet an unutterable vacancy an unfathomable vastness a hum of stillness can be felt...
a song of love has supersaturated the dream
there are tears and smiles and hugs
there is caring
there is love
but there is no hope or fear or need of a never arising next

we are the aftertaste of wind
a song of joy and sorrow
of love and love lost
birth and death the beginning and end of an imaginary timeline
that no one walks
some seem to fall off
and plummet into uncharted seas
and dissolve into their own love light
but they exist only in this love light
that no one owns
we are reflections of reflections 
there is no beginning and end to this echo
this sea shanty
this intoxication
this love



moon sailed through her own echo as night drank itself
intoxicated with her own absence and the fullness of starlight

where are the stars that bathe the garden
weaving pattens of stardust into your feet...
where is the light in your night time dream?
where is the love you long for?

daylight pauses on the fence
mourning dove on the feeder
fullness of feathers and the roundness of vowels
spill through this song
painted with memory 
and the low howl of distant winds that soar across the canyon
erasing the shadows of time and space
and the reflection of a girl
dancing with her reflection
longing for a love to heal her brokenness
and found that love was the dream of longing
that she was


silent breath of my lover
caresses this softness
love has burned all notions of day and night
and love
she left her kiss upon my lips
and her song in my heart
no longer mine
this song
these tears
these smiles
this love


no one exists alone 
Yet we are utterly alone 




we are all ultimately alone... in this dance of one of two of many of none.... the song sings itself 
the story tells itself 
this dance of life dances itself, no rehearsal no ticket required... no dance floor... no end nor beginning no time or non time at all.... no movement nor non movement.... yet I can feel my heart beating... the echo of all hearts all songs all love stories...  the dance of this and that, the heart beat of existence .... 


I do not see that there is a person or self underneath thought belief feeling or action
No separate things called thought belief feeling or actions 
Yet this passion play that sings us dances us twirls us into this ballet of sunset streaming is what we are... 
I am this pirouette of thought....  

I see you an as unutterably beautiful ChoiceLess hologram drifting through a mirage of time and space 
I seem to fall deeply in love with everyone I meet 
Caring deeply 
Yet without hope or fear or need of a next or their love 



As long as I am 
There is caring 
Deeply 
There is loving 
Deeply 
As I am this caring 
This loving 
I might say there is no one to care and no love 
Here in rainbows 
Knowing you and me and love is made up
Is not the end of loving 
Of caring deeply for each other 
It’s the beginning 
I never knew I could love so deeply 
As there is no hope or fear or need of a next or love returned

I am your echo and you are mine... I am your reflection and you are mine... we are a ballet of love in this imaginary space in between galaxies... light skimming across a river without sides ....shimmering dancing in its own light.. love's light has no center or edge... it is the absence of measurement of lines ...of all ideas of love

love pours through this heart that is not mine... this love that is not mine... these tears that are not mine or yours but the tears of everyone ...of no one .... rivers of ancient starlight pour through our eyes... and this is what we call love... 

'I love you' how easily the words slip from our lips... like a kiss... like a song like a rainbow... 

but I had to learn to hide it.... 

falling in love with everyone I see

and when two imaginary dancers of wind meet... hearts collide and all is erased in this explosion of love....

....when they disappear into each other they are not... yet sharing songs ignites this love light...this burning obvious un namable feeling that we all know... love cannot be contained in a word yet it is a word... we are words... this vast measureless expanse has no edges nor center... it is not even vast... or measureless...

we this love empty of all ideas of love

simply echoes of love songs never sung nor heard

yet seem to emerge in the singing...

and I say 'I love you', because I do

the end of hope and fear and need of a never arising next is the blossoming of love

stepping off the cliff into your own love and finding you are soaring... have always been soaring... effortlessly in love as love through love... 

this love that has no meaning nor non meaning.... super saturating this dream of unparalleled wonder... it is not limited to a feeling or a person... it cannot be thought about yet it soothes all thought... it cannot be spoken of yet all words sing it... 

love is the song that erases all lines between this and that 

between you and me

yet imaginary lines are required to fall in love

so deeply

that we disappear 

songs are colors sliding through a river of rainbows... what is color what is a rainbow what are those tree tops dancing in the wind? what are words when word is a word? what is thought when thought is a thought? what thought could be true or false when true and false are thought? 

what is an atom? what is time? what is sunlight on the river

dancing?

what is beauty? what is this love? how can you see what you are?

there is nothing inside... cut your body and there is blood... 

you can never know what is going on as you are not separate from it...

you might as well try to move the planets out of their orbit... 

and you give up

laughing 

and weeping

realizing you never had any choice but to try to capture the sun

and you feel sorry for that little girl who went to sleep crying 

for no reason

for every reason

and one day woke up to a new dawn

to this brightness of not trying to hold love

and she sailed into the dream of love that she had never left

my first memory was the ocean calling my name

I could hear it always

but never actually find it

it was the wistful wind in the morning trees

first light in the garden

roses blooming

last leaves lingering....

tires on a distant road

love songs on the radio as the cars flew by

the caress of tears bathing my tenderness

and cascading down mountains of sorrow

and joy 

the all encompassing sigh

and the wrap around embrace of my own grief

of never finding any thing I could count on

and the forever quest for love

the silence of forgotten dreams

...the longing to remember

and the longing to forget

the emptiness I could not find

or fill

and the fullness of rainbows as they faded into sky

the promise of tomorrow

and the knowing that it would never come

and one day I found my name 

delicately written by the sea

as it percolated into the glistening sands

the sparkling was so beautiful

I forgot I never was

I cannot find a name for this feeling which is not separate from the rocks and trees and wind

dancing

nor separate from mountains and sky and vast endless oceans I cannot see

it is not separate from the caress of my eyes on this screen and the afternoon light swooning through the windy leaves, gracefully patterning the ground with un-graspable wondrousness

not separate from the birdsong coming from the low tangled roses empty now of blossoms

or my fingers sliding across the piano keys typing this song

it is a flood of emotion more intimate than any thing I thought I was, and more infinite than anything I thought I was not... raw and wild it broke my heart long ago and never left... I call it love and awe and joy and sorrow but it is really not a thing at all.... it has no edges nor center and comes not from me or you, yet it seems to be enlivened by your presence.... when I am with you this already bursting heart explodes 

dissolving into the sparkling

it feels like I am weeping always

whether there are tears or not

whether there is laughter or silence

I am this liquidity

dissolving into the sparkling....

the very earth and sky crack open

the compass of thought spins

this is the end of direction 

there is no place to go

or land

you cannot find your feet...

there are no reference points

no one left to be lost or found

ribbons of infinity slash your heart

as love escapes all ideas of freedom

you fall into a searing brilliance

as space and time dissolve

weeping softly you fall into your own tears

into your own naturalness

into your own beauty

into your own love

that was never yours

it is what you are

an imaginary center in a dream of edges

a galaxy of thought spiraling outward and inward

and it feels like light pirouetting with light

weightless

suspended in the top of a swing

without movement

as wind and light and love swoosh through you

and you are love swooshing

there is nothing to say

this cannot be shared

all you can do is try to describe this sensation of living between love and nothing at all

'I love you'

seems to work just fine

songs skim the liquidity of light

pouring echoes into your edgeless heart

neither empty nor full

they blossom just the same

petals are always falling

like these tears

seen and unseen

the music of vast oceans in a tiny shell

broken open by gulls longing to fill their hunger

how you longed to fill your hunger for love

never knowing you are this emptiness

this beautiful longing

that can never be filled

songs soar through us and paint our transparency with the fluidity of wind on a summer pond

trees arch down to kiss their reflection

symphony of birds

a feeling of stillness rippling....

whirling into your own reflection 

lightly the sun kisses you

as the sky swallows you

we are this love light that dances in us through us as us

there is no center nor center to the dream

no beginning or end to this love song that you are

you seem to be dancing through a mirage of time and space

yet you are the mirage dancing

sunlight and wind swept shadows flow through your reflection

no source to this light can be found

no water to slack your thirst

no one to drink these empty words

no one here to say I love you

no one there to reply

we are this call and answer love song

it sings us into the dream that we are

'just this'

love sings

'and not even that'

you find you are this dance of echoes

twirling into yourself

intoxicated with the knowing that you are this enchantment dancing

on the edge of love and nothing at all

Even meaningless looses its meaning

we are wingless hearts beating

soaring through love's embrace

her unassailable light saturates all and everything

there was no need to look under shadows

or try to hold the day

love is light and dark

and the beckoning sunset

infinite echoes bloom and recede

we are the tides of love bathing in our own liquidity

we are the song of vast vast seas falling through sky

rivers of oceans rushing through our chests

love seeks you out and finds you in the secret places

where you hid your fear of the emptiness that had been trying to swallow you since you were very small

running toward love

running away from your own embrace

running.... 

looking for self looking for other looking for ideas of perfection

looking for certitude 

for a place to rest

this deep grief of aloneness that defines you is consumed by love

she colors this bittersweet beauty of knowing that you are this pirouette of love and emptiness

adorned with light and shadow

spinning reflections on the canyon walls 

dancing with your own echo

no one leads and no one follows

there is no here nor there

time lost in the war between never and forever

everyone and everything was lost in the dance

this dance

this breath

this heartbeat

this song

there is no other