Some poems for your enjoyment,
When I heard your ideas so far from mine, I embraced you
Born in distant lands of our mothers
A sacred trust given, carried in the heart, food for the soul.
Walking in this night, broken free, lost in the garden
together we roam searching galactic alleys in distant skies.
Missing links formed before the birth of, or by the birth of, the spoken word are found in our communion.
Let there be Light
Dancing amongst the seeds that grow in the halls where laws are made
where wisdom keepers, shamans, sages are locked out, but not forgotten.
Speak to me, with that silent breath carried by the wind, old stories rewritten, retold.
Speak to me, with that silent breath of the night our mothers shared, old stories rewritten retold.
Speak to me, with that breath, that breath of life, that carries the words of your ideas
now no different from mine.
In this beautiful spot
a rock by a tree at the river bank
lays listening to the birds.
My Port of Entry
These bones strung together make up me,
It is I who plays the roll of being my own puppeteer.
A script and story line set at birth,
maybe even before the time of my soul,
now I name the show.
Once harbored, today my keel is set free.
I am the port of my own entry,
How I navigate to and from shore that is my map.
Dotted with landmarks some foreboding, some welcoming
I choose where and how to land.
The invitation is mine.
Oh yes! the night sky is my guide and time is my friend,
at least until death I will part.
And in between now and then,
I will let color light up my life.
I will paint the clouds of my day with hues of joy,
stopping only to imagine myself as the last drop of golden honey,
Just before the comb is sealed with wax.
And then there is more.
Watch those rivers run wild after the storm
Look how they settle back into calm,
But, not before the last heavenly tear is shed.
So as breath whispers life into me, my gates open,
I sail in the canals of my feelings
On into a vast ocean of discovery.
A beginning of time.
That day birthed on the plains of Abraham
Gold was struck, molten and then purified
Crafted ornaments defined and the characters were struck
Now masquerading with faces worn in different settings.
Known only by a locket, chain and trinket showing who is king.
Cain met Abel on a fateful day, so who is who’s keeper.
A sacred pact sealed in hot blood
Brother do not forsake me, come out and play
On this field a fertile ground once known for toil.
Now tilled from dawn to dust with endless possibility
Pass now through this gate crusader,
Be the rider in the storm and light up the night sky.
Framed by doors held strong,
A stairway clouded in mystery
Shows me the way to heaven
Join the ships, sail forth into lands unknown,
Navigate by the north star
Wind blown clouds settle thick over the horizon,
draping like curtains hung in the theater of life.
"That was then" echos loud, 9 time
then, then, then, then, then, then,
then, then, then.
Sunshine, responding Now, Now, Now,
lights up, through a crack in the sky,
illuminating another joyful moment of stillness.
All that is and will be settles,
like dew drops on this stage.
Spring leaves show their designs as new growth.
The web of life, ever in the making and always creating,
transforms energy, as unfurling universal patterns.
In an ongoing photosynthetic cycle.
CO2 + H2O gives rise to C6H12O6 + 02
and so I am nourished,
over and over, that I
like a cat am basking in the joy of
life at least 9 times a day.