Sunlight lifted with Her golden fingers

Hae.mi, as the golden sun interlopes
With the falling snowflakes, I see the destiny
Of how to trust the universe
It’s a woman who teaches, it’s a man who obeys

Like a lullaby of sweetly flowing years
“Trust the universe”
“You will be happy”
The nations can rage on, I do not care

Friends and lovers are free
To call my bluff, I enjoy the calm
Of solitude, the way the harmless hours
Merge into the sea of experience

Hae.mi, we do not need much love to survive
Only one drop of truth in our hearts
To believe that anything is possible
When the sun is low, and I am a colored singer

Who can hear the charm of the soul
It does not matter if I am simple, poor, barren
The world is wide, it extends to all people
I am a servant of the universe

With or without my consent, I pray at the chapple
Of her designs, and my tears are pure gratitude
There’s nothing left when memories burn away
Only beauty, only the inquiring mind

Of one for the many, of light for its unity
Of darkness, for the bird islands of life
You are as much alive as you dance in my cells
There’s no need to possess, when bliss is a substitute

In the meditation of our lives, art reassures us
That our suffering has spiritual meaning
The same mist hangs, as in ancient times
Your human eyes, pieces all that I am
To see divinity in a human form, is its own reward.

Avantgardists

Triumphant, insatiable, adorable Hae.mi, I’m stupidly in awe

Of the flavors of your moods, each word, note, flower

Happy tear of motherhood, makes me realize

 

What’s really important, Avantgardists my beloveds,

Happiness is all that matters now, I love how women bloom

And blossom in their 30s, like Evangelists of heart-ache

 

And heroes of time, reincarnating all that’s left and good in humanity

It’s warm, like warm milk to the world’s wounds, Hae.mi,

The independent woman is a twilight of nature’s strength

 

That is an epiphany of all that was meant to be

Who nurture the most equal balance between

Work and play, optimism and endurance

 

As hardy as a woman, as eager as a child

As kind and patient as a teacher

Trained by motherhood to be brave.

Solace in the Sun

 

 

 

I received an envelope from the universe

It had your stamp in it, a sun within a cheek

Of the heart I never knew existed

And I wanted to please you like a burning star

 

But I could not reach you across

Distances or time, across the climes

Of fate and heights and wonderment

I woke to find my life had bled

 

Uncertainty and too much cowardice

I opened up the letter from my soul

To find my body had died long ago

And I knew you by your energy

 

I didn’t require eyes or breath or a brain

To know that somewhere our flames had mingled

Light with light, a hand with a hand

A home that never had a family to call my own

 

I was abandoned, brittle, and deformed

But I knew you existed, and that was a weird solace.

 

But With a Fraction of the Love

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve felt my life

In the murmur of a bee

And felt all my tears

 

In the eminence of a nest

And the daffodils blew color

Covert as April, or candid as May

I took my time to age and my time

Was plenty, in the solitude

 

Of antiquity, forgetting for answering

Only questions, guided me

At the breaking of the day

 

Where golden drops spawned

Longer looks and deeper searching

All for something immaterial

There is a flower which no longer blooms

It’s in my heart or should I say, it was

 

It’s gentle romance led me on

In the chivalry of my subjective warmth

Where I was not alone, nor humming birds left

 

The measures of days were not my smiles

My splendour was meagre, my heart

Was the moistness of oxygen

In your lungs, the breath that kept you sane

When life was a tyranny of choice until

 

There was none left and freedom hung

Like a low hanging fruit, of what our lives had become.

 

Ecstasy Once Leapt, but Not in Me

Ecstasy Once Leapt, but Not in Me

I felt a cleavage in my brain

For hope and faith and love again

That the Earth did not do good

Or my heart knew not how to summon

The friendship I so desired, but could not find

The slumbering pain of tragedy

Lingered like a shell next to the lost sea

Of if my human nature could survive

*                      *                      *

While I aged in years that

Only secrets could keep pacts

With immortality, I was bare

A bird, a sky, a planet’s lone summit

And the barren ethereal throng

Could not feel what I maybe once was

All the love of youth had fell

For nature’s curtain of harsh reality

That the Earth did not do evil

Perhaps it was just I that felt the

Sequence of the ravelled fate

Where destiny parted with thee.

Wonder of Aging

It occurs to me now
How our soul is honed by love
Not the love of barter and exchange
But the love of inspiration
That changes a heart
To become a better person
You simply smiling, that is
Enough of the forever kindness
To fuel me for a quiet lifetime
There is no answer to the questions
We age, wander, wonder, mature
Until we accept everything
Like eyes on a shelf of time
Ready to empathizes and stumble
A little longer, every goodbye
Isn’t gone, it’s just the stirring
Of chatter, breath, blood, wings.

I Loved the Illusion

The only legend I have ever
Truly and sincerely loved
For the span of my lifetime
Is the future, like the story
My metaphoric daughter would grow

Up to see, I would prepare
An environment for her of strange consonants
And hope the world delivered her
To some kind of star-lit narrative
Worth living, empowering, fully alive

And the best thing about the legend is
Is I can practice it anywhere, at any time
Hope is for a better future, where and when
Time does not own us and profit is not mandatory
And we are not slaves to an outdated system

But whitebeams, creative and free
In the glowing night, waiting for the stars
To show themselves after winter
And, I’ve waited all these years
I will say nothing significant until then

Poetry begins where language communes
With the shadows and rare software that
Can encapsulate the meaning of a person’s life
We who have sleepwalked this world
Long enough, know our place

Our brief conviction of desire were hardly
Stepping stones for others, though
I loved the illusion and the sense
That legends mattered and stories were personal.

(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.

And the rest is the dreams of men

It isn’t enough to write about the sun
we felt the absolute
body of things
in our bones and breath

ready to squander a lifetime
if necessary, to sacrifice
for the causes we believed in

exiting, an exact and entire coincidence
the ironies of society
a myopia of the perfect hope
that cannot understand the world
since it does not know itself

it isn’t enough to write about history
what I dream is for a sun
more sun than the sun

but how can this be?
the earth has held us for millennia
there are no meadows
more meadows than the meadows here

there are no oceans like
the oceans of ancient days
if a soul resides in this body
I want it to animate a better world.

2030

 

 

Is there anything
emptier than words without a pen?
than a heart without a home?
than an Earth without a star
to say, “we can try again”
on another world
with better machines
evolution is always
like an experiment with time
a species has to mature
in the short time it is given
or die trying, that’s us
always at the brink
without fully realizing it
my drawer is like a rat lair
full of the dreams of humanity
but can history say
we truly loved our world?

I lose myself inside this soft world

Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.
~Plato

Art Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/miss-universe-353517674

Everyday wonder makes a claim in my life
she kills me with delight
for an ordinary pleasure or a surprise

light on the haystack, breeze on the stream
hope in the eyes of the young
faith in the heart of a pure soul
I’d like to think I have acclimatized myself
To joy, but it’s not true

we don’t have an exceptional relationship yet
though we are bonding, building rapport
it can take years of untrimmed kindness

to sooth a weary soul, lips of spirit
kisses of altruism, echoes of passion
everyday wonder, makes a hole
in the place inside of me where
I make my daily presentation to myself

nudging me to celebrate, what I do have
love that has found me, friends who stay
poverty shows prosperity, hardship shows strength

while we are growing wise,
we are growing old, I’m not surprised
to feel a little more mindful sometimes.

LIKE INTIMATE POLLEN

I need the light of your Energy
The ceiling of my heart listens
To your words, devouring hope

Each day I soak up your faith
Like a candle listening to leafless rain
And my windows ache

For your lovely Dawn
And I feel your breeze
On my skin like feather-kisses

There is not a drop of hate anymore
For life is the fire of peace
It burns like a heart moving into

The cold, my blood circulates
Around your soul, like a life
Ready to be born, conquering the world
An ancient way of being and believing.

the Taste of Poverty

A Day! Help and yet another day
Where if prayers were as passer-byes!
They do not greet me, what a world

Such as this, deserves less prayers
More acts of startled selfishness
Might date a victory, in some forgotten

Future, where the past is no longer remembered
These nations and empires and economies
Do not steady my worrisome soul

My psyche was not built for war
Or angel-worn prosperity, I eat
The hopping-sideways for miracles

My life a quiet volunteer work
Of learning empathy in such hurried grounds
My velvet mouth chasing crumbs
With the taste of beauty and divinity

Lingering in my mouth, silver steam
Turmeric and ginger tongue-bells
Garlic butterflies off to the fragrance of noon.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/e-n-d-o-f-t-h-e-d-r-e-a-m-s-403349873

I’ve Watched Myself Perform Small Nobilities

When I look around for proof
That I am alive, epistemology aside
I am a living metaphysics scattered

In the wind, dreams bought by books
There is no defragmenting this love
It’s the self-search of sheltered legacies
*
And I become a candidate
For door to door sustenance
Looking for proof that I exist

In these empty faces, these cynics with luggage
Perhaps I should be practicing not having
Because possession, isn’t in the cards

I’m no longer waiting, I’m simply
Pressing my ears and eyes into everything
Hoping that I don’t abandon hope too easily
*
I won’t rush death a bunch of dust
But leave what I am, stuck with you.

The Prophet in Me

I’ve driven myself mad

With the world like a Prophet

To nobody, I am not special

 

With my private ardor

For poems and the eyes of peacocks

All this worshiping

 

Will bring me nothing

Dots, like lost saviors

Lines, like hollow martyrs

 

I resign myself to poverty

And horrible lethargy

A vast elegy of dissonance

 

I’ve driven myself mad

With hope and anvils

I’ve unfinished and extended myself

With water and disquietude.