The soul has a time-ridiculing roar


13

The soul is as an unseen Swan
Drifting down the black river
With only stars to stream the light across

And only light to make the river
Seem more bright, a perfect commotion
Of silk, snow, lilies, the flexibility of matter
Creation, the soul feels no bondage
With an armful of white blossoms

I’m sure the soul smiles even when
We appear to be at our worst
Down and out and suffering

As if there were no tomorrow
The soul sways and is partially hidden
It known no dark music, only stretching
Down the river like a waterfall
Discovering something for the

Inner evolution of form and whistling
The background music of everything
Quantum variables speaking new languages

The soul listens for the bulb of love
As rain pelting the tops of trees
And clouds over the river in a season
That is between seasons, for which
There are far too few names

The soul is an onlooker of the most mischievous
Parodies, smiling at the drama of last week
Piloting dreams for learning situations

Laughing at the calendar whose touch
Is bleak weather, irony of shaded routines
Patron, portion, logistic of the mother-instinct
In us all, the soul doesn’t find necessity hard at all
There is no bottom to the soul, it catches us on the other end.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Swan-199231681

Poetry that Floats


SONY DSC

The spirit, my spirit
Likes to dress in poems
I don’t know ten languages

I don’t know how to rhyme
I only care for the cadence
Of sunrise, of airy matter

Of dreams of lime and appetites
Mystical, metaphors for
The future of mind, the home

Where I reside is an art form
A sadhana of process
A pure light of beauty that burns

Silver to gold to shaded sun
In the blue infinity of my inner world
The spirit, my spirit

Likes it very much
Why don’t you come and float
Awhile? Since we are creators

Entering matter with spiritual intent
Keeping the holiness of the body
Like a star, warm and life-affirming.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Peacock-03-478274993

Morning Song


Art Courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Nature-s-Embrace-478706780

11

Every morning
The world is created &
I am a new person

Purified by the tips of orange
Alive with sticks of the sun
Patting me, caressing me
Aching in me to be somebody new
And summer pushes me enlightening

My spirit in phases of existence
For hours I am drunk in
The possibilities of who I could be

But the day has its plan for me
As I submit to the light everywhere
I can feel it secretly working in me
Every morning
I awake to a harmony

That is lighter than snow
More wise than the sound
Of migrating birds, more deep

Than the green that always returns
And my prayers are no longer
Loud, but a part of the silence
From which all prayers come and go
Every morning

The world is created &
I am a new person
With the ashes of night

Sparkling in my chest
Like the reminder of past lifetimes
And in my soul I carry
Thorns like jewels
And it has become my nature

To be happy, to share it
To gift it as if soft trails
Of happiness existed everywhere.

Exiled in the love of an evolving world


Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Ania-479072594

10

Searching my heart for its true joy
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am not weary of time, though

It moves too quickly, and words and people
Drown out my own sorrow, this world
Deserves more than my self-interest
The salty sweetness of pleasure grows old
But helping others, that peace never ends

I found the small moments of empathy
In my days, the best, the cherishing of others
A more luminous goal than self-satisfaction

And now I am caught by the suffering of others
Not in a bad way, but in a collective-realism
That I too, had it easier than others
That I too, was born more fortunate
And thus to serve others may be the only way
For me to ever understand humanity.