Sunday, October 30, 2005

I am the Wind

Anticipating gust and gale
Knowing when to trim the sail
Flowing on the crest of time
Trying to evoke sublime.

I am the Wind, I am not me
I live by watching myself see
Allowing now to feed what will
While letting full to self refill.

Valuations of the past
Firmly set can be recast
Not by implement of rule
The Wind, not I, must be the tool.

Duality must reunite
Abandoning the flight and fight
By being present and aware
Mindful now and everywhere.

The will can only be a guide
It cannot force a change inside
It is a branch and not the root
It must surrender absolute.

This Wind is not a thing but all
And understanding is too small
To comprehend in just one place
The entirety of time and space.

I am the Wind, I am not me
This experience sets me free
Pride and Fear have me undone
But not when Wind and I are one.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Excerpts from a Drawing

Intertwined with
independence and connected
to every nothing and making sense
of the eternity of limited fields of
fatigue soaked long johns and marshmallow
suppers with grassy hills and glassy villes
Regret for choices imagined permanent and
consequences to die for when addiction spans
and consumes causing writhing confusion within
concerning promises made and continuously broken
Exhausted energy cycles spiral wastefully away
as genuine souls deplete infinite wells
of grounded reality as they come
and go and take and leave
intangible measures of
moments and sublime

Around and around we go. Pain. Anticipate pain. Know pain. Embrace pain. Love pain.
And go and go and go. Fear. The lesson of pain is a lesson in fear. Same same.
This time. This time. This time. This time we will
make the leap, make the
discovery, make the
connection, make

What needs to be said?
Who are you angry at?
Don't be so hard on yourself.

Oh joy. Why am I so happy?
Is it real or
Just imagined
Narrow minded

filled with nothing
overflowing with
the rest and
made complete
by saying

Necessary and sufficient
Absolute and absolutely
Happy Happy Happy

I can't believe
I can't deceive
I can't relieve
I can't grieve
I can't leave.

A story
that begins
with the end,
has no middle,
and goes nowhere
but here, written by
the protagonist, edited
by the devil, and
it's a best seller.