Soni’s Hour to Rejoice

“I must admit, I sometimes find it useful in my practice to delineate the various typologies of personality as cats and hens and ducks and swans and so forth.” – Women Who Run with the Wolves

Family, love, adventure
My skin breathes sunlight
Like women, who run with the wolves!
My heart beats stardust

Turned inside out with love
For creation, and our journeys
We who spell sacred syllables
With our blazing thrilled minds

And identity cascades in gratitude
With optimism, shining as the sun
A golden halo of all we have become
Family, love, adventure

More than thanks giving
My heart bleeds promise
With a hunger I cannot contain
For bliss, rapture, synthesis

Where we are the Earth
Where we came from, the lineage
Of so much destiny compacted
Each week is an ancestor’s mood

Each whim, a thread of Gaia’s moon
My soul contains all cosmic ingredients
Laughter, seduction, poetry
We’re like lost gifts completing each other

Where it’s not about being whole or strong
Or simply the attainment of goals
Security is following our intended course
And who’s to say what failures

Can teach us the most about ourselves
Family, love and adventure
I bounce like a nomad through the years
A boundless unfurling of miracles

A scriptive love of my own fate
The lyrics I was born to sing
If only at the center of my loving
My ability to create hope in life
And my duty to serve a higher truth.

The End of Desire 2.

It’s clever not to desire, isn’t it my friend?
Our worldly duties no longer
Feel weighted like fate, like we once felt
Tied to roles and roses and houses

Let’s not follow authority or impulse
But find the listening actions
The lifestyle that doesn’t inhibit

The world-soul to act through us
We were never going to be anything
But the destiny we had consented to live
The smiles and misfortunes

They were all intended
And in our grace and simplicity
We found a kind of poise to

Succumb to who we were, like sheaths and bodies
That we knew we would outgrow
To be attracted to this or that seems
Only to obey some instinct of nature

That is not false, only artificial
Desire wasn’t the bar, but it was superficial
It wasn’t the kind of skill that led us

To revelation, only repetition
Revelation wasn’t only to repeat
But to learn to be a new person.

The Ghost Dancer

Sleep Hae.mi, to rest your pulsating care

Where tears are for the past

Taking on an unsuspecting universe

I’ll see you thrive in independence

 

Comely with the rows of maternal jewels

Cherished by friends, beloved to strangers

Rest Hae.mi, from the wonder of it all

Where change is as lullaby and a signal

 

Of all that is yet still to come

Where a woman knows her art

And the hospitality of her own heart

And how much to give, and how much to keep

 

Festive Hae.mi, forgetting to eat

In a manic row with destiny

Faery fingers, soft platonic mildness

You are budding now, out from the mists of Autumn

 

Industrious, not wandering, thinking in new words

Where we can afford neither peace, nor ignorance in our dreamy lives

Hae.mi, the wildness of care, how well I know thee

To organize the mess of serendipity

 

To feed the bright array of synchronicity

Where on the floor of a nude sauna in your mind

I am brought to life for a few poems

To witness the birth of new beauty

 

Where your life borders gold with studs of silver

And art and technical proficiency meet

In your fate at the feet of your most puissant destiny.

On the wage of Art and Price of Youth

There is a romantic mark
In our hearts of sinking days
That sad similitude of being awake
While we dwindle our life’s wage away

Exhausted by nature, loved by none
We must dream up magic
From suffering’s destiny
And find fond bliss in monotony

And balmy incense to reveal
The melodies beneath the toil
And the smiles that do not turn away in vain
I to these restless symbols purge

The love that got away of destiny
Where free-will was a measure
Of our intelligence and motivation
That were the hours of our youth

Whose vulgarity of error was nothing more
Than the brief centre of an aching heart
There is a romantic streak
That burns our nights to the ground

Some call it art, others sacrifice
I must press on in solemn epiphanies
That break the butterfly wings of time
For all the ache is nothing more
Than mere beauty in experiment.

The Talent for Lying

To be truly curious
It will take all of your heart
To listen to people and to question things
There is nothing revolutionary

Whatsoever about it
It’s the natural state of being human
You must write, read and live
As if you knew nothing

That you might explore
Every point of view
Every frame of reference
As valid, every formulas as good

Until there are no more words
And no more self in what
You have found, then tell yourself
The meaning of life

Lying is done with words
And also in silence
The world lies to itself everyday
To perpetuate ignorance

So that some might profit over the many
Poetry is a concentration on
The ultimate relationship
Of everything in the universe

With itself, the self that is only a half-truth
It’s the connections that are beautiful.

To take us lands away

(Prayers of Jivatma)

The sky is the content
The trees are the content
The people, they’re just visitors

Who will go extinct like any species
Who may attempt to fly from
Star to planet to planet-star

As a dragonfly might fly from one
End of the summer backyard to the other
There is no special season

To be whisked away, no passage
Like a book, no counselor like a page
From the frugal reality we live

To the grand impression of the human soul
Encapsulated in a few novels
That transformed the way we perceive

Events and our cognition of how
The world works, and what is possible
That’s philosophy of memes

That we project what we invest in
A chariot at play forever learning
With a mind that can barley keep up

To the new speed of information
The stars are the content
The birds are the believers
We are just authors of a human story.

Salt In the Wounds of the Earth

Salt In the Wounds of the Earth

Eun Ji, the rain is coming down
Like the mirror’s play of cloud-flow
Not too different like time
We cannot force our way
Sometimes the path must invite us

To feel a salty waltz of breeze
And surrender to what must be
While our hearts remain private

In the abode of crows and lovers
Who leave us, while we must
Find freedom against the four sides
Of the world, I will wait
While the two Suns

Of my Soul and Spirit cool
O’ save me, that I have been executed
For my deliverance unto eccentricity

The hotter sun will be frozen first
While this Earth raises her temperature
Many a state will go without water
And I will be not quenched by mortality
Nor the little words that the galaxy

Echoes in our voice, so sublime
What famines I have known
And such spiritual ambiguity

I have traced in what I write
The living trunk of fear and procrastination
So much of the human condition
That is fresh, unearthed, with roots
That craves more life than one mere star.

The Purple Fat Feelings

The Purple Fat Feelings

I can never read all the books I want
Never love all the people I’d prefer
Hoping to live and feel
All the cursive of the human palette
I was left feeling horribly limited

I learned not to expect
Nothing from anybody
As the surest means of being surprised

I wanted to be startled by life
And found everything in life was scripted
The outgoing guts and
The ability to improvise
With a touch of self-doubt

I took deep breaths and bragged
Inside my own heart
For taking-in kisses left me feeling

Self-important and in love with everything
That was the Spring’s ingredient
The stars still go waltzing in blue and red

And if all the world dropped dead
I fancy love would still exist
On stars, for sale, for youthful fancy
Perhaps if we ever find ourselves
At peace, it will be because

We are dangerously close to wanting nothing
For now in my own prayer-silence
I’ll dream of books, love and fat purple feelings.

Of No Importance

Of No Importance

Of no importance are the heartbreaks
Heartbroken we went on
A little tougher, maybe even meaner

Into the world to get our
Critical goals and face emergencies
To bring our fire

Out into the open
To mediate and exercise
And make love with a difference
To work and obsessively achieve
Of no importance are the failures

We failed and moved on
A little more determined, maybe maniacal
Into the world exposed
With greater serotonin intake
Better abilities to manage dopamine

Testosterone yeah, it was all possible
Because there is a will, and we learned
People don’t always help, they

Can even hinder so remember that
It’s all normal to shrug it off
Because one day it will just be
Of no importance anymore.

(When hope has no face)

It Asked a Crumb of Me

Hope is the thing that catches you
When you have children
It perches in your soul like

A quiet song, you cannot explain it
Faith has feathers without words
It’s simple, profound

And has a quality that never stops
Its flight traverses dawns
Hope is a quality of purpose

To have a future is enough
Little birds must content with
All the dangers, just like you

Hope is not found in all
The parts of this world, some resent it
Others have reset it, it lingers

In the back of our minds
Even when storms have come
Hope inches you forward
Sore from tragedies, it brings you
Your people, and sometimes

That is enough to get through another day
Sometimes nobody comes
And you must go inside
To find the peace of the strangest sea
To find crumbs of divinity.

Units of Identity

Units of Identity

Everyone is more or less
A translation of who they used to be
That being said, don’t get so

Settled in your own skin
Better to try new things
Find new people, mingle a little?
Everyone gets simpler as they
Ease into their own skin

It may take a few decades
Uphill and then downhill
So they say, so let go a little

Everyone is more or less
A poor translation of who
They wanted to be and resigned
With serendipity, they find
They can accept more than they once

Might have tolerated, it’s called
Life as a compromise, it’s the
Human journey, so we finally

Learn not to measure, judge, label
Inner peace is more valuable
Than analysis you might say.

Before I had you

before I had you
I had nature to admire or something
akin to a background unity
Of all spiritual time and sacred “everywhere”
It was nearly enough to sustain me

I loved nature, and I still do
But you have changed “Nature”
And in a way, you are now
My everything, harmonious and flattering
The heartfelt call beyond roses

And I don’t regret the responsibility
Of being mated, cuddled, sacrificed
to the “us” our lives have become
before I had you
I distinctly remember being miserable

or some shade of bored with myself
And that my dear, is you
A light that’s better than the sun’s rays!
I guess flowers are more flowery
With inner and outer beauty

Easily within reach
Before I had you
I ached for flowers
But I only had my verses
And they exquisitely wept to endure

Into the far future as if untarnished by death
And certainly I don’t recollect
The memories associated with those poems
Before I had you
All I had were mere words

And the inner music that had inspired them
Verses that celebrated the brevity
Of life’s delight and the ancient union of things…

Inner child metaphor of a tree

The trees they rise up
As if up from their own free will
Into the light, wild, happy
Strong, if only I could be that way
But nature did not make me strong
And I was not born free
But chained, enslaved, shy

But what if the dreams
Were grafted to my branches
Like fruit and I could see
The horizon with replanted forests
What if I could breathe clean fresh
Perspectives for breakfast?
Fit with buds for birds to ransack

Or pollen to spread nature
The true nature of our spontaneous
Selves, the inner-child without her mask
The trees they rise up
For too many generations, with
The secret of the ancient taste
From our growth what silver fir

Reveals the truth that was our destiny?
It was not the water, wood, air, light
These were only elements
Of how we found what we were made of
It’s just that way if I am a barren stem
I won’t be blown around as much
Nor catch the eye of creatures

But what could I then become
In an open sunlit field, left as I was…

Nature 520:1

For I know the plans I have for you
Said Nature, to the beast
On whatever star, of artificial or organic
Intelligence, your design is place

Where energies collide
Plans to prosper and plans not
To harm you, and your descendants
Will be good and just

Plans to give you hope and a future
Taste and see that Nature is good
Blessed are those who follow her laws
And those who hope in the stars

Will renew their strength and soar
Like miracles from their Earths
They will walk on strange worlds
And not faint, for they will be

Custodians of life, protecting, nurturing
As was their true purpose, as they
Once were by me, Said Nature
As the home star burst forth, a red nothing.

Once upon a time you were free

Happiness is the absence
Of attachment, I know
It’s hard to believe
But in that freedom
You can empathize with
The cosmos, and are more
Aware of the unity-of-everything

Flow with whatever may happen
Let your mind be free
Stay centered in experience
A path is made by walking on it
Love is made by serving it
Happiness is turning inwards

In the solitude of awakening
Awakening to spiritual reality
Unposssessed by material things
It’s hard to believe bliss
Could be object-less, but
It’s only pleasure that requires objects.

Something to be Learned

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Estella-472873000

Wonder where the hard years went

Up and down and lost like blood and sweat

The monumental dramas have all but disappeared

For maybe love and peace

Can win the day, yet again

I passed a bridge, calling maturity

I broke into a dive, of self-acceptance

It wasn’t a matter of effort

I think it’s a function of

Synaptic pruning, lost memories

All the grown-up people say

The wine from these grapes

Tastes sweeter now, like wonder

Taken at a distance, with some measure

Of quiet detachment, where failure

Dulled by grief disappears

And joy is the only thing that can

Possibly take its place

No longer with boots of the hunter on

The chalk of a thousand sunsets

Has left its mark in nodding understatement

Of all the dreams left like alder leaves

Posterity knows Autumns well enough

That by disks of splendour, all that something

Set in a lusty tune, rust of dormant boughs.

Autumn painfully chafes

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kriszti-n-Darwin-476002094

Another year gone and going
Soon autumn will return with her
Spices of colors, rejoicing change
Chanting loss, let’s say it again

Soon the uneaten fruits of our lives
Will turn to moss, and whispers
Once loud will grow so very dim
The symbols we tell ourselves

Will change, even our language
Will be more mature, us and we
These particular islands will change
Our subterranean castles will gleam

New possibilities, among the white
Of the harvests we carried from spring
Into the golden colds, the forever pastures
Of momentary pauses, the reckonings

Another year where we give up our plans
To the experience, our wanderings for water
Our return back to the source
All the efforts to be and have what

We already are, shadows crumbled damply
By the side of our journeys, how we once
Mattered so much to ourselves, now we can
Relax in a more divine detachment.

LAST COMMENTARY ON FREE-WILL

The core of my heart is now patience and endurance
Without these, how can one live?
When they departed, Love and God
I had to carry on dwelling in this body
Then I Said to the wind, ‘Go and overtake them,
For they are biding in the shade of the grove,
And bear to them a greeting from sorrowful man
In whose heart are sorrows because he is separated from his people
I will be left to kiss black stone
And smile to the veiled faces left in my life
How many aspiring souls does it take to reach Eternity?
The core of my heart is modesty and empathy
For all that I have experienced has led me thus
In our robes of darkness from the anguish of fate
We must return to Destiny’s love-desire again
With God-desire enough to carry on
For freedom is thus, the beggars are in ourselves
Go and take it! With these new attributes.

THE SLEEPERS

There is no map of trees Just as
There is no History of lifetimes
We are ‘free’ to experience here
The French window ajar
Another restless rainy day!
Let the silver dew rise
Let the white mists roll
Let them say what they will –
There is no height like Eyes
No soulfulness like, pure kindness
We are sleepers some of us
Should we forget to sleep through
The years, of mornings and afternoons
There is no replay button, no reset
Only the silence after dreaming.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Untitled-451918526

SPIRITUAL SOLUTION

On the Egyptian papyrus
I read the star-chart of the future
There are no credits in fate

No discretion in life-experience
As if life were a mere accident
In some ghost-continuum of

Many possible futures, variables
Of natural algorithms of what
Was meant to be, after all –

Beneath Spring light as lovely
As candles in the Earth’s own womb
I felt the racing of embryos

Life, love and the plummet of years
Priceless as the attendants of lost hours
I sought to unloose the perfect

Formula of being, but there was none
No happiness that led to lasting joy
Except for the strange spiritual instinct.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Fading-Memories-448866980

At The Hinge of All My Days

If I shouldn’t be alive –
Let others do, what I could not
Let them not save me
Any memorial crumbs

Our stories are all retold
Again and again, like being fast
Asleep and dreaming life
Our lives, they come and go

So quickly, if I should die tomorrow
Perhaps I will have been asked
To go abroad, to some further star –
And there I shall take compact Sunshine

With me, my first well Day in ages
If I shouldn’t be alive –
Let poets rise from every circumstance
Uncertain of themselves, so –

We all cheat ourselves, dropping
Threads of our youthful dreams
We conform to routine lives
If I shouldn’t be alive –

Maybe it is for the best?
To fade into tomorrow with
Rainbows held, like brief recompense.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Winter-Spices-412283366

The Intangible

Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what
you do with what happens to you. – Aldous Huxley

I’ve experienced what
I was meant to experience
I’ve seen and heard and met
All that I was meant to see, hear, meet
And I have loved
That which I was preordained to love
So why do I fret, all is as it should be
Experience is not what happens to you
It’s what you do with what happens to you
I’ve perceived my own perception change
Into a subjectivity of quantum possibility
There I meditated on the great ends
The release from knowing and a
Finality of loving everything
Reality is merely an illusion
Albeit a very persistent one
The end of the soul is energy
Everything is a bridge to that state of being
That lives invisible behind all sensation
Experience, fate, free-will, identity
Are merely the teachers of the wise
Who end up knowing nothing quite justly
Danger and opportunity is but the gathering
Of the ‘crisis’ of being, that is
In the last regard, quite unimportant.

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one – Albert Einstein

Photography Courtesy:

1. http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Enchanting-381636901
2. http://browse.deviantart.com/art/grenade-2-381660719

The Grace of the Cosmos

I would love the Universe
Not to profit by her, or steal her grace
But for what she is –
I would smile at the starts
Not for seeking or inner comfort

But because I exist because of them
I would try to know the Universe
Not for control by her powers
Or how I can exploit her myriad truths!
But because her wonders are the orders

Of my own divine formula
My heritage, the science of my ancestry
The future of my dearest kin
I would serve Life in the Galaxy
Not for my species to gain over others

But for all life to have its moment to bloom
I am from a dying, warlike species
But I would love the Universe
As my last power of choice, on a world
That I unheedingly aided to destroy.

Dreams of your Photographs

Sweetheart, you are my river in paradise
I understand that destiny, more than anything
Is how we come together, like when you
Take your nature walks – I am transported
To the inner places you have been

Our nomadic beauty could wander the world
Because love cannot always fly
Without resting, I am such a place
Where you can be freely, without expectation
Or obligation, A calm root where you can belong

There is no formula of clay in our lives
But when our minds and bodies come together
You are the turquoise piece that fits in me
Like a gem to my stone, like a bud to my stem
And I yearn for your like mineral wishes

Emerald-longing, as sweet as the earth
We open celestial capsules in our minutes shared
Hours that caress us from afar, the spiritual wonder
Of so much discovery, you bring me alive
As if I’ve been invisible to every gift, before you.

Children from Zones of Paradise

The Stars express around
Our fates like dwindling destiny
The Sun and Moon make their haste
Across our skies of personality

Why would that which is within
Not be without, and visa versa?
Of finer famines, I do not know
Astronomy and esoteric astrology

That points and shows, cosmic datastreams
That life’s nutrition is a matrix of relationships
Aspects, conjunctions, transits
These were the silver chronicles

Of the poor & far, patterns of our hearts
The veins and tissues of our baselines.

Without a Sequel

Today I am in the longitude of faith
Last night, I did not fight for sleep
I became a legend of my own struggle
And in most lovely lapsing

I forgot my self importance
My little raw soul on a row like this
Turned its slow features on like warm milk

Towards the greatest goal
Today I am in the latitude of invisible
Reaches, last night I let yesterday go

The golden echo of those sobs were drowned
I have begun to die, each and every day
I become a legend to my own gains

The lovely body of my unique mind
A blank interim before divinity
As a fury of flowers and light

My sacred earth in my day was my curse
Today I am compass at my own reaches
Inextinguishable like a most treasured dream.