Sunlight lifted with Her golden fingers


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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.

(And If) It Was Too Late for Man


(And If) It Was Too Late for Man

Photo courtesy of Raining Insanity.

Exultation is my last resort
For knowing and feeling in the world
Gratitude impersonal, compassion a bit divine

Past the houses, past the intoxicated lives
Doubtless time has plans for them all
In adjoining rooms of descendancy
Exultation is my last resort
The purest joy isn’t owned

Truth and beauty are the designs of youth
Time and eternity have the sweetest eyes
But I prefer eternity’s staggered embrace

She knows me in my own insignificance
And does not lie with dying memories
Or a past that’s waving like imperfection
Exultation is my last resort
If it requires no personal, no place or thing

Let it be the most patient bliss
Of actually speaking with the universe.

Solution to a Mystical Book of Epigrams


1

The circle of our coming and our going
Melts here in infinite knowing
Such that has no beginning
Or shall maybe ever have an end

For no one can ever in this world explain
The love that bears the pain
Through centuries of the Keeper
Who arranges the body of this universe

That nothing is truly good or evil
It just is what it is and evolves
Finally to decay and start again
I leave a drunkard of time and place

And holy tears stream my eyes
Not for my little portion of profit or children
Not for experience or her legacy of trials
But because I know everyone stands

In a limited place, without freedom
Only occasional moments of outbreaks
That might last but a few seconds
Of eternity, and so my days are spent

Circling and tracing the way back
To the source, as if in rehab from unity
I must accept this divided world
As a lonely place or as a solitude yearning

For another kind of bliss, I am friendless
Among so many people, so many routines
That barley have time to say or thought at all
If the one I love is God, do I need any friend?

While the living water whispers below the sun


48

I can feel the foam
Of the cosmos, glowing
And carving my soul
Love in its gentlest form

Altruism for an ideal
Not for always and forever
But for today, we bow
Before the life-force

Of a billion galaxies
Is the heart of man pure?
Does it matter, he will
Survive if he can align himself

With nature, if woman can
Turn him to righteousness
Behold, all things attain
Their sustainability in balance

The sun is that strong
The light is that wise
Deeds, knowledge, beauty, joy
All come from evolution

It’s not us that thinks, builds, mates
It’s only the measure of
Energy in us, the youth in us

I can feel the foam
Of the universe all around me
All that the morning star
Has scattered, all the folds
Of twilight that never went away

All that the stars leave in their
Bringing together of energy.

I COME TO BUY A SMILE OF LIGHT


9

I was burned in the Night
Awoke to my own blister of Dream
Awaiting Dawn, I heard the voice
With every Morning’s Beam

I felt the lids of Memory break
Like an open Seal of all that
Can ever be Experienced
My Sense featured only Beloved images

Which I saw to my surprise everywhere
I was created Mystical in the Night
Distilled from Sunday Twilights
I Harvested from every Sun

A bit of madness in the Source
That was a Love no mind or soul
Might Contain, only envelope
For a very short interval.