Ardent blades burn in sun’s passion.
Fired scarlet, succulent leaves
gather to bear the bloom.
Fervent petals waft in sultry air
like excited flames, goaded
by a mesmerized smithy.
Enraptured I stare in stillness.
In a sky of virescence, I float
looking down in my mind to
that crimson eye-flood.
Stoke the heart-head inferno,
Loosed in a bang of distractions consumed,
and
rest in the ever ember-ashes of now.
There is a shore by the ocean bright
where the sand lies softly warm
waiting for your hard and weary feet.
On that shore, lap crystal clear waves,
that play and leap and laugh in the sun,
waiting for your worn and heavy hands.
In those waves, move currents deep,
that can carry away the body’s weight,
waiting for your dusty and parched soul
to awaken…
Deep calls to deep.
As your feet stand buried in a trillion
diamond grains, wealth beyond imagination,
your hands dancing on the wavetops, sending
rhythms of joy through your bones,
Lie back on the waters that give life,
Let creation carry you back to the Creator.
You could never leave Her arms,
and all our cares were His first, so
we only seek now to serve, to
smile when we see a face, to
sing when we hear a melody, to
dance when our souls are lifted
by a breath.
It was made all for you,
to share and enjoy,
for our glory and pleasure
is in our delighting.
Resplendent
Yet veiled in the plainness of my finitude
Glorious
A web of more echoing wavelets than I can attend to
Beauty
You are both the song and each note inside each note
One
What is, simply is, in all its complexities
Oh, Reality, you simple are before me
I speak to you? Because you speak to me.
Though you have no voice, no limbs,
no complicity in my humanity.
I speak in thoughts, in actions
like a fish drowning in the wide ocean,
thrashing about, forgetting simply to breathe.
My thoughts give no testimony that I see you
But only ramble babbling forth from my restlessness.
I thought I heard something…
I hear but do not comprehend, I see but no image enters me
I feel and shudder as a shiver races down my spine.
Who are you?
Your symmetric order betrays the fact of your intelligence
What is your name?
Though I have never met you, I’ve known you my whole life.
The others speak of you in legends,
in words that bear your life.
The thing about legends and language and stories
from long ago is they have always fallen short.
Who do I say that you are?
How shall I say? when my answer is a thousand memories bubbling up
from within me, face after face echoing emotions, joys and pains, lies
and revelations of truth.
Even if I could enunciate the sum of my experience,
synthesizing so many disparate echoings into a simple matrix, even if
my mind could hold such a perfect ordering (which would surely be
beyond my mental ability), I would be speechless.
Such a conception would be like a ship built within a glass bottle
whose neck allows but a penny through.
But there is a way to get the ship out…if not by language, then by a
projection of its image, carefully focused by our will into action.
Thus all the experiences that crafted that fragile matrix need not
speak, but rather lend the sparkle to one’s eye that tells another you
understand and it is good. When the river of one’s actions runs pure,
it paints a more colorful image of what’s in one’s heart than any words
or canvas can convey.
When one finds…