The Wonder 1.

Though the principle is faint
The heart craves that purity
The Way is silent, she call us
The Love, it cannot be named it is not human
Heaven and Earth, are not what they seem
The mystic feels behind everything
Forms are but gorgeous biology and its creation
Poverty and simplicity are too real
Many creatures learn to meditate
In their own way, at their right time
Through the principle is faint
It is there, the unity that draws all to its center
Bring the first big bang of growth
Where galaxies spin out to the reaches
The soul still longs for something
That cannot be felt by the senses alone
Mystery on mystery but always near
Far and subtle, but so intimate
Peaceful and perfect, yet the missing element
The spirit’s search beckons after
All familiar failures and all brief success
It’s what comes after and before
It’s what believes not in belief but questioning.

Godlike

Forgetfulness is Rain at Night

At last the stage
Where we each must play our part
In dripping years with solemn hearts
To age and alas to forget

The ambitious of youth, and to enter
The lamps of silence and acceptance
Forgetfulness is like a song
That freed us from our old pleasures

Freedom is like a witness, to realize none is there
At last we enter the place
Where we are at the location
Of who we were meant to be, after all

Silence is like a prophecy
Alone in the company of our fading projections
Alike to voice and motionless
Unwearyingly we take our place

Among the living and smouldering eyes of the dead
To stun our fancies into something tangible
And experience the whispering tapestry
Of the fringes of our being, algorithms of
The last potential we can summon.

A Thousand Leagues of Silence

I am the living silence
Inside me are the seeds
Of the greatest conversations of poetry
Silence does not and cannot
Break my heart, it is intimacy with nature

I learn from her like a teacher
And my tongue is purple in her
Sunsets, silence denotes images
Without words, spaces without people
The moving waters of time

Will not slow down for us
Or for the sake of the silence of inner peace
I cannot substitute anything for her
She is the meditation of non-being
I will hold her golden nothingness

Long before I ere to speak again
For words are over-rated and a luxury
Of the ignorant, from the tree of silence
I will pick the fruit of eternity
And learn to pray to no God

I will not require cowardice of faith
To not act or to submit to some power
For I am already submissive to divinity
In allowing the silence of the cosmos
To be with me always, like a cloth

Of the most invisible and beloved fabric
I can feel the pulse of silence
In neuron, axon, dendrite, atom and cell
Speech measures moments with each other
But silence is the wisdom of books

We once read and books that have
Yet to be written and feelings from
A future where our decedents know
The power of silence that is an
Action without the arrogance of will.

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S e c r e t s of S i l e n c e

S e c r e t s of S i l e n c e

The ultimate tragedy is not to live an uneventful life
But to be oppressed by noise
And never know the dearness of silence
The good friend who never betrays
The love between the words

That is the poetry of experience
It does not require to be bullied into commotion
It can be introverted and define itself
Without judgement or explanations
The ultimate tragedy is then

To live in the constant self-ruminations
That does not shut up, projections and various falsehoods
Silence is freedom, never forget this!
Silence does not lead to God
But to the stars where silence is in the light

In the way life forms on planets and takes
Millions of years to mature
Silence is then the miracle of waiting
Of being patient until decedent divinity
We must not take sides, silence

Is the pure neutrality, the great objectivity
That won’t follow littleness of selfhood
But rather the great Mother
The thoughts that turn back to the Ocean
Where the human heart is not broken

Into a billion ideas and condemnations of right or wrong
Silence is to follow your nature
That expresses an inexpressible music
And has a darkness of adequate instinct
Silence is better than nearly all words

Than the idea that words and labels can save us
Words only ornament and elaborate
But never explain, they cannot do that
But silence can, that is why it is ancient and sought
By the seeker who knows that truth and beauty are illusions.

W e A r e What We T h i n k

W e A r e What We T h i n k

If we become what we think
To purify the mind should
Should be our priority
The mind is everything

So let us not dwell on the past
Or dream too much of the future
But love the present as
The greatest gift, like

Health, wealth, faithfulness
And learn to love too
The nature of change who
Can be aggressive or docile

Peace comes from within
Conquer yourself with acceptance
Love yourself with surrender
The shadow’s good health requires

That we become less attached to our shadow
The patterns we fabricate
As comfortable routines of dysfunction
The shadow is what we must act upon

Holding on to anger or giving words
To sadness to ourselves
If we become what we think
We must laugh at our shadow

Convince it to dissolve
For we have to work our own salvation
Do not depend on others for it
They will not have time to care for it.

Realization of Solitude #amwriting #poem #NationalPoetryMonth #micropoetry

Man is the only being who knows he is alone

This morning, let me drink the silence
Let me swim in my own solitude
Being the profoundest condition
Of my humanity, you’d think

I should get to know her better
Intimacy and silence, that’s all
There every is, I cannot often
Penetrate another being with my love

Since surrender must occur mutually
And there are times my emotion
Does not require reciprocity
This morning, let me forget about altruism

For we all deserve the dream
Beyond myself, somewhere, I shall
Then wait for my own arrival
The slow enlightenment of lifetimes

Because two bodies, naked and entwined
Soul and body, mind and heart must somehow
Learn to live together and leap
Over time, we are not invulnerable

However in the silence of today
I realize there are no yesterdays, no names,
No you and I and no tomorrow
This morning, I want to give myself up
To something higher than I ever was.

Scarcity of Silence #FreeVerse #poems #micropoetry #silence #amwriting #NationalPoetryMonth

Scarcity of Silences

Silence isn’t depressing
It’s being with yourself, oneself, myself
That’s quality time
I knew it perfectly well

Nature is always present
Like when I used to walk in the woods
I wasn’t alone, I was surrounded
By trees, the forest, the snow melting

There weren’t windows, buildings noise
It was silence glittering and blinking
In terrible moments that were
Beautiful because they felt innate

Flat as a poster I walk this city
Without silence, or a clear mirror
Perhaps without silence, we
Find ourselves wanting everything

And everything we cannot have
I blame too much breeding
As the cause of the scarcity of silence
Dare I say it’s gone extinct?

Poetry takes me back to nature
When all the nature has been stripped
Searched, and taken, sort of how
The world treats a young woman
Who once knew what silence was.

The Gift

Ode to Forever Swirling Sunlight

My final notation will come
Close to silence, it will be subtle
It won’t take me long to write
Poems ought to come naturally
Like kissing and giving voice

To what burns to get out
It will take all of my heart
The beating poor little thing
That loved too much, with
All the breath in the world

It will be simple, in that
The final notation is always
Somehow about God
Who is as simple as
The universe, as fresh
As the cities of the future

My descendants will know me
By what I chose to say
What I never planned, but was
What I dreamed most
At the core of my ribs
I am coming to all the pieces

Of my life that led me
Divinity, the outstretched gift
That was a human life
Like a valediction of all virtue
And a forbidden taste of morning

Before I even got to undress
In the empty notations of the sun.

Like words on the tip of the tongue of Silence

Going Blank Again

i

Is there an expiration date
On silence, the silence that begs us to write
In bloom we are silent
In dialogue with the universe
Then to remember the moment
We write about it for the

Rest of our lives, that is how
Mystic writers are born
Prophets who go by the name
“Anonymous” nice to read you
You will notice many of them
Shuffling down the centuries

II

With a surreal smile on their lips
In the arms of Spring
You will see them
Somewhere on the street
On the first murmur of the wind
Across the ember of the months

Through the river of language
Untying what you were taught
With hurried words that doesn’t
Need many breaths, they can say it all
Ageless, with buried open eyes
Unhearable, with the quality of silence

III

Beneath their stainless anthems
Nameless speeches to humanity
Is there an expiration date on silence?
I think not, only the extinction
Of an audience, only the missing
Information in the cloud

In the space between planets
In the time between civilizations
That’s the eternity were beautiful words go.

Silence is Nature’s beat tapping all hearts

Silence is Nature’s beat tapping all hearts

Silence is the sound of thought
For quantum silence would
Mean to not exist, and that is

Impossible for perception
Silence is not a lack of anything
Devoid of words, music, anxiety

It’s the great equalizer
The period in-between incarnations
The condition in-between encounters

And the sacred space that
Separates people, brains, chatter
The voices in our minds still
Sprout flowers faithful to the intent
That created them, the karmic non-hush

I’ve studied silence a lifetime
And still know nothing about her
For she is like the Tao, resting in action
Nestling in every leaf of every tree
Silence in the sun singing

Out loud but not for us to hear
Because we do not hear in light frequency
I can be content however
With silence as a blade of grass
Silence as utopia, purity, simplicity

The bareness of necessity
That transcends desires, wants, needs
A dream healer and healing dream
A drum sleeper and a sleepy drum
A cosmic background mother crying

Upon branches, beaches, even in
Crowded streets, I can feel it
Exhausted and spiralling
The presence unto nothing.

Serotonin is on her Sails

Serotonin is on her Sails

I felt a celebration in the end
Of a funeral in the brain
That was not so much Serotonin

But something else, I cannot say!
Something in me enjoyed tragedy
Or the idea of bare simplicity

Nude in anonymity,
Like the keen peace of silence
Or the agony of intimacy

With nobody, but something else
That’s descendent divinity
The space between one

Season of life and another
The waiting, the wrecked waiting….
I felt a celebration in the dark

Of suffering at her fuel’s end
Where mourners leave the known world
And where lovers turn to go
When all the kisses have run out.

In Living Poetry

Utterance leaves me silent
My tongue as useless
As subtle fire, the universe

Can speak what it wants
To creatures temporary
As transient as ears ringing

And sightless eyes
In the sea of living
Evolution is daring, and

Adoring thee, for what
You were and not what
You could become

Language brings you closer
To duality, away
From the initial unity

The oneness of lost oceans
And poetry is just the music
Of the thoughts of ancients

A speck of beauty left
A remnant of symbols
Dead for madness and gone

A strong trembling of
The fever of the Gods
A lyrical fluttering
And the heart beholds

The truth in a moment
And I behold your living poetry
Like eyes of diamonds
And words of star-songs.

One Last Chance

I’ve buried with open eyes
My heart in the world
To see nothing really
And to see love clearly

I’ve deserted language
For feeling, it’s the only
Truth that matters to me
The foliage of clear identity

The fallen reality of empathy
I’ve buried with open eyes
My heart in the world
So that my soul might

Not go extinct, it’s light weight
Pressed against the winter morning
Like an anonymous conspiracy
Of seeing beauty even in decay

And the pulse of syllables
Laughing even in monotony
I’ve burned with open eyes
My heart in the world

So that i might sleepwalk kindly
For the rest of my brief years
If only to love a bit more
And learn to think of myself

A bit less, so far as I know
It’s working, goodbye then
Charred language, scattered vows
Promises of desires better left

For the precipitation of music
The arpeggio of sighs.

Paradox of Thought

I aspire to silence the voices
That I may speak for all voices
The function of a room is
To keep the body well

The function of a mind is
To keep the soul serene
I will never hear the one true voice
But in the Tao I find ultimate empathy

And I give it to all creatures here
And in silence I feel the snowflakes
The clouds, the trees, the light
In a whole new way against

The night, alive in the day
I become like the breeze
That rustles the leaves
And by disappearing to myself

I have room to identify with everything
That is the function of silence
My friend, we’ve thought of how
The poet spoke the thoughts

Of history, well as a finger points
To the stars, the mind dreams
In silence, language finds God.

As New Rivers school Old Oceans

As New Rivers school Old Oceans

I’m in the waiting room
Called life
Between one world
And the next
It’s empty here
And quiet right down

To my bones, they are light
My mind is water
My breath is an appointment
With time, my body
Is a fragrance of the forest
All around me

These walls are not life
The cities do not grow
The skies blink with airplanes
Those birds haven’t left
In what direction
Is the waiting room?

From here to there
From outside to inside?
Babies too shy to stop
Clinging to a breast
They haven’t yet studied
Faces, but that’s soon

I’m in the waiting room
Called life
I don’t plan to stay forever
I won’t be called upon
The metaphor of surprise
Is nearly old to me

I might have been embarrassed
If I wasn’t the only one here
We are symbols to ourselves
And non-existent to reality
I’m in the waiting room
Between something and nothing

A dual mirror or voice
The echo of sanity or madness
Catching a thread in the
Silence, to remember that
I can be separate from
The fabric of the universe

If required, when ego is necessary
Like for movement or work or mating
It doesn’t seem important
I’m in the waiting room
For a lifetime of
Observation, studious observation.

Bouquet on an old wave of silence

I sang into an invisible Country
I called it Home, breathless
For the future and poetry
I sang a canto in stuttered
Hope, that filters through
Years full of sunshine
Pillars of sacrifice and people
People who unknowingly
All contributed to the same aim
In a harmony of music and energy
I sang into a moment, that kept
On being timeless, a transcendent breach
Into the clean air of worlds
I stood and sang with the voice
Of Silence, I wanted the diamond
Pivot bright to bathe me in
Transparency and wonder
So that the luminous pages
And on my knees, I might
Whisper something of a lost divinity
I sang for all the creatures who had died
For principles, ideals, survival.

Psalm 5 – Silence

Thou hast put gladness in my heart
Without telling me, such is
The mercy of thy Grace, O Lord
I never did anything to

Put you there, of this I am quite sure!
Stand in awe, little Mortal
Thus I am small and happy, Selah!
I have lost all righteousness

Whatever Greatness I once was
Has passed and is gone
My only love now is what
I can give to this world

Before I too am gone, we all
Change in the nature of thy grace
Give ear to my words, O Lord
Not my thoughts, but my heart

That knows nothing but the
True consideration of universal love
Personal love being too far close
To the animal, to the wickedness

Of Man and his devotion to possession
Possessing nothing, I find myself
More free, more giving, more apt
To not speak but find peace

In silence and the simple things
Consider that, my final meditation
And in not hearing the voice
Of my own thoughts, thy blessing.

Morning Song

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

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.

Migration in a summer of lovely language

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Brinkburn-Priory-478920570

These words have survived separations
Faces I can no longer remember of loved ones
Poetry has transcended my decades

Spacious and fluent like a last reminder
Of why truth is no longer as important
As beauty, inner beauty of a spiritual quality
Alphabets now shelter this candle
This life that was my hopes and dreams

These most intimate self-deceptions
Wildest faith of wonderful illusions
For a moment still I am there

With moons and roses, aware of nothing
But the shine of creativity on our inner cheek
The mineral blossoms and lotus of our imagination
It’s pure there to write like drunken water
In a light of its own color, reflecting the pauses

Silences, spaces in-between relationships and solitude
That was the best quality of the life I lived.

The ones worth suffering for

“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .””
― C.S. Lewis

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/A-friendship-tale-116384835

i

It’s a long time since I haven’t
heard from you, old friend
though you like to live in my mind
and in those moments I imagine
you are thinking of me too

our time and place is gone
to erect for ourselves a lovers’
monument deep in the recess of our soul

ii

We give each slice to another man
another woman, but the truth is
few captivate our ideals, have values
in the likeness of our own
once we talked about who we would

be, and to speak about changes
was to speak about love,
the love we shared for our future

iii

When you wept because we had to part
did you know there was another
unlike me waiting for you?
It’s a long time since I haven’t
heard from you, I did not receive

even a little piece of paper
It’s not a lack of love
but a lack of friendship
which makes the missing stronger.

lineage of non-duality

Accustom yourself continually to make many acts of love, for they enkindle and melt the soul.
~ Saint Teresa of Avila

on the terrace of immortals
i am laughing at mortality
I climb straight to silence

where there is no ambiguity
my eyes are like jade cubes of ice
they smile into the wind
and tear at the rainy sun

through favor or disfavor
I pay no mind at all….
in poverty or solitude

through the dreams of living
be filled with uncertainty and doubt
i speak the original language
of waiting without thinking

of loving without seizing
taking a page out of Wu Cailan’s
indifference, i find the shinning moonlight

is whiter than long ago
what’s the use of contending?
with grief or disgrace?
to both I can aptly respond

only light resides in the
city of the mind, in the
distance of the heart

that knows no separation
between places, centuries, entities
we drift happily like the clouds
our lives turn like the leaves.

rising into silence

i came upon God accidentally
like learning a new language
upon connection, i came

into the unknown and stayed
without knowing, rising
beyond the science of silence
i did not know where

the door was to leave or enter
this brilliant house
it’s a perfect realm of calm

and a deepest release into solitude
that is a peace, a stunned
and stammering quietude
i was given a narrow way

to enter fields of light
rising beyond all science
i carried my evolution

for inside the confines of experience
until I was dazed and liberated
revealing my own intimacy with God
in splendor of my five senses

my mind found a potter’s home
a carpentry of my soul’s workshop
to work with my hands

for something divine
and know creation intimately
like a poet who never sleeps
holiness is not a place or a person

it is a language, the unity
behind all thought, all will, all hope
this is knowledge, by unknowing

and solace, without fighting
this is a blazing height of all remedies
when knowing and doing is insufficient
and feeling surrenders in the dark

to the most holy Being and freedom
which can only be translated into
ecstatic feeling, that is God to me.

Psalm 5

Give ears to my words, O Lord, that I may be healed
Consider it my meditation
Of a poetry without end
Hearken unto the voice of my silent cry, my Sovereign King,
For unto thee I will pray, quietly
My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O Diamond Lord;
In the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up
To the vigilant Sun of my few days on Earth
For thou art not a God that hath pleasure in harshness and disdain
Neither shall I dwell upon my ills or misfortunes.
The foolish miss thy sight with petty thoughts
They shall destroy themselves with their negativity
The Lord will abhor the warlike and deceitful mockers
That hoard and do not ask questions of laughter
But as for me, I will come into thy house with shining eyes
Full with the mercy and compassion of the wretched
And in thy fear of all ruin shall I worship a higher way
Towards a holy temple by thy feet
Lead me, O Lord, where I my own worst enemy
Make my path straight before my face.
Let me be silent until my wickedness does melt;
For my tongue should be a healing grace
For my heart should spread some vibrant joy
And my soul a shield to men pass an eternal flame.

MEDITATIONS FOR A SAVAGE LIFETIME

i

I want to go back so far that
I speak another Language
Sometimes I retreat into my Cave of scars
Only to find I bear witness
To the tragedies of history
I enact them in myself
In my private study of humanity

ii

I want to go back so far that
The cell phone is never on
I am ripped-out from the grid
So I might feel a blemish of silence
And dream in primitive pure survival
Without the influence of others

iii

With naked fingers I would follow
My bliss until all I could do is
Extend my loneliness into the world
As if I was the first to discover individuality
And the virtues of feeling separate
I have always wondered about
The left-over energy of a lifetime
Sitting there long after midnight
Burnt-out by death herself

iv

I want to go back so far that
Caring becomes an impossible thinness
And love becomes the only thing
That is not filled with ambiguity.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Alien-survival-418094931

Treatise on Silence

Wherefore of one cannot speak
Thereof one must be silent
For silence is listening to the universal

Doing nothing is better than
Being busy doing nothing
Doing nothing is silence of action

Therefore be vulnerable and open
Being open to beauty and bounty everywhere
Therefore be silent and have reverence

It is the space within that makes it useful
There are times when the only correct
Thing to do is to bear out troubles

Until a better day, therefore be patient
As patient as the moon, which does not fight
It attacks no one, it does not worry

It keeps to its natural course and nature
Be as a gentle influence upon others
A subtle light of friendship and hope.

Symphony of Silence

I am in need of music that would flower
like salvation for my fretful moments
my fingers tips to be the trembling melodies
of the deep, clear, liquid, universal voice
that is not my own voice, but all voices
for the healing swaying, old and low

i am in need of some song sweet
that echoes the trance of silence’s source
i am in need of peace, after quiet breath
of heart made still, after high blood pressure
i am in need of music that showers forth
crushing all obstacles in rhythm and sleep

for notes transport us into frequency
and everything boils down to frequency and light
balls of light that dance in space-time
a music of freedom, so i am reincarnate
into another form, on another world.

Photography Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Music-115768965

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How Lovely Now are Little Things

I am swept in silence dear
With beauty swept clean
Alone in my little summer green

Give me the old silence of
The little wood, like childhood
Where grass is quieter than the sun

I am swept in holy silence dear
With dearest hopes dead love
Unable to recapture Spring memories

Of years passed, I walk now aerial
I drown in the leaves of surrender
Nature takes me smelling the days

Past the brief snatches of wonder that I knew
I am swept in silence dear
There is nothing left of me

But trunks of rain, running wood
That catches the roots of scents.

(For We Know Silence Already)

You tell me that silence
Is closer to God, than poetry
Who am I to disagree –
The best words have always been inner
Like empathy, breathless & unsaid
.
You tell me that silence
Is nearer to your heart than your writing
Though you write from a truer
Place than I do, I can feel
The peace in your few aching words
But I can bring your silence
.
It’s built in my calm, my meditation
Before I had a voice, a body, a life
I was a gift of silence, unborn –
You hand my poems back to me
With a slow smile and I retreat
.
Back into the silence of our
Shared understanding, it’s sweeter
There, than before – when all
I was, were poems strewn across the floor.

The Hollows Made By Lovers in us through Harsh Words

Once you have learned these words
You will forget silence
Like learning heartbreak
You will renounce love

These are true stories of living
The word hangs like an anchor
It is used against us like a weapon
The very same voice you once served

Once you have learned these words
You will know the language of humanity
They will shape you to be insensitive
And burn a smudge of orange across your face

Every time you forget the rift of inner beauty
You will die a little more to the child you once were
Before language, before symbols corrupted you
You hold yourself between these two words

One silent, and the other an action
So be careful what you say, knowing
How words once damaged you, be gentle
To those closer to the silence
To those more fresh from the source.