soul mate (haiku) * 6/30/14

when I first saw you

my life flashed before my eyes

meeting a soulmate

My eyes * 6/29/14

My eyes are sitting in sockets with a penthouse view. They are over achievers, dedicated to their tasks, hardly ever complain or take time off. They have such joy for what they do, look interested and curious. Could have been identical twins! Sometimes I take from them more than the sight offered. They have been the lead dogs in my welling process. Bring tears as environmental offerings to bathe my spirit even if my mind is distant to the cause. They have an unstated reverence beyond the focusing. They have sacred order and align to reference many things I know little about. My mind finds me staring, well my eyes staring to bring to me a sense of things, which would have seemed illogical by my mind’s directive. Where is it in me to give them freedom? Freedom for them to teach me their passion of view. 

the gift of absence (haiku) * 6/28/14

from parent’s absence

learned much more about myself

then ever before

words that stare * 6/27/14

I sometimes write with words that stare back, that see fences, yet seem to share from beyond my wit and boundaries. I feel orphaned from beyond the say, appear too weak for the labyrinth of conversation. People often respond to me as if I were talking to myself, sifting through what was meant, then passed the remains on to them. Well, what did you hear? What if a sequence of falling verbal dominoes, spilled out across the unsaid rules of speech? How do they come by you? People did not teach me what to do. They talked in a bafflement of red flags. I expect words to come out of me, alive, like animals in my inner world. But these words that stare, and stare back, I don't know them. I seem to shake them out of me from the mixture of the fallen dominoes and stalwart red flags, for a simpler life. It is like a concretized amnesia swirling in a trace gravity but yet, evaporative when brought to words. If people take truth from what I say, they do not tell how that is done. But these words leave me, stark, bent upright, unembellished, as words that stare . . .

the light (haiku) * 6/26/14

focusing on light

offers deep full assurance

gives peace to the heart

birthing recognition * 6/25/14

An observant midwife in our minds is auspiciously birthing recognition, bonding with each new experiential birth into neuro-stone. This procession is grossly, our perpetual world. Our future alphabet is forming in this birth canal of acknowledgment. We are each one of these children, fumbling towards speech, finding learning bunks in the mind. Yet we only want to be golden molasses reaching out for the incoming light, but thought sees to it as repetition's face, gifting us otherwise. We share our awake-ness with this clutter

of memory-hand-me-downs. In desperation, we dream

in the dark closets of sleep, with time of their own doing, knowing there is a sense of self not usurped by recognition, a life free of tending and retention, unoccupied by straight laced cognition, featuring a perfumed existence with no shelf life towards lingering. Just the one of us, the one of all of us, and the consort of unknowable simplicity, the midwife to our minds,

the spirit in residence, birthing recognition from the dream of being . . .