Here Are Your Miracles

In the place of deep listening stars sing
our brilliance exults joy octave-waves ring
what do I miss in my habitual
cocooning in a chrysalis I cling

until today I release finally free
emerging in the miracles wholly
—if you’ve been praying for them, here they are:
nestlings, hatchlings, fiercely protected, see

the lakeshore brimming intentional streams
watched and warmed, warning intruders these teams
in endless flights feed open demanding
come to vibrant life manifested dreams

Hold this space of possible. Touch unknown
improbable enter plain hearts of stone
Deep inside power emerges beyond
the layered false world-stage that’s cracking. Own

your essential voice, your sovereignty. We
are born in this moment, each sacred key
alive and vibrant in our waking thrill
as mysteries reveal how love agrees.

The Rising Song

Water has a memory and carries within it our thoughts and prayers. As you yourself are water, no matter where you are, your prayers will be carried to the rest of the world.~Masaru Emoto

The mellifluous day flows lovely rhymes
through discordant notes intelligence chimes

I expand to include though I don’t splash
in the shallow places where chaos grimes

clarity. Only tell me: I’m so scared,
I’ll meet you in pure presence waters where

we are sanctified by prayer. My love
we arrive to choose this ascending stair

or wallow deaf and blind gossamer clutch
the dark web’s insubstantial weaving such

panicked heft. You cannot bring your fear
or any of the heavy things that smutch

our divine crystalline nature birthing
words dipped in love, transmitting light, earth-ing.

This is the acid test. The shortcut waves
beg you to receive. You turn away. Dearth

plods through joy with muddy feet destined to
grieve as all you have is taken, blessed and

desperation fuels unholy. Release.
Let go. Love overflows if you but rest!

Ah, how I long to bring you in my stream
yet now it’s clear our paths are each unique.

The role you play I cannot understand.
After last night’s storming, liquid’s agleam

washed and cleansed, my soul’s intention I claim
these sacred waters that I bless and name

avail abundance, teach me to receive.
My vessel rises: sovereignty’s the game.

Inspired by: Acid, Gossamer, Heft and Shortcut.

Featured image of three herons escorting each other through last night’s storm.

In my new resolve to clean up my transmission, soundcloud recordings are paused for a while while I learn how to create my own beats in 432 HZ.  I am committed to fuel only the highest trajectory Now.


Oh thou who…beset the road I was to wander in, thou wilt not with…evil round enmesh.”~Omar Khayyám 

Across the chasm of lies where some maniac
cries some strange fiction he writes in
the sand, saying common sense writ in my hand
can no longer suffice–obscene price–this

planned propaganda is not just domestic
the outreach of evil is global.
And we who celebrate life have to blink.
Who is buying this fraud? Who has never

met god? Not that Vindictive Fellow above.
Mind of creation that lives, dies in love
informing matter, recycling stars
unmasked, unadorned at rest then in motion

the true pulse of connection unafraid
in spite of the malevolence displayed
on the world stage, the poorly written script.
The actors are well paid but not by me

I withdraw my currency to invest
my inspired creation and my flow
informed by the Void where I go, sweet rest
each day, emerge refreshed, in light I play.


Inspired by: Maniac, Domestic, Sand, Chasm and Write.  The Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt is to select a word that starts with“ch”  and use that (bonus if you start with it) in “stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.”

Two Eagles Flying

Two eagles fly over my house, carry
prayers to the creator. These mornings
I sit in a shaft of light that streams from
a hole in the roof of my consciousness.

I’ve built my sacred altar there; ev’ry
worry and difficulty that emerges
I lift to that place beyond my knowing,
a multitude ascending luminous

and I realize I’m building a bridge
each moment I offer my nescience
clarity and peace reveal I cannot
becomes a path to the light.


Inspired by two bald eagles flying over. I’ve only ever seen them flying solo here.

Featured image found here.  (The ones flying here were too high, and I without my camera.)

Mystery Calls

What is greatest in our existence, what makes it precious beyond words, has the modesty to use sorrow in order to penetrate our soul.~Rainer Maria Rilke

Late afternoon glade peering into deep
shadows, called by the wounded cat across
the lake. Surprise zygodactylous feet
as a yellow-bellied sapsucker hops

drumming the sacred, opening heart til
the watcher is revealed. Some tiny sign
in our conjoined field signals human shrill
and off we go, one flying sweet and fine

one trodding on the path transformed, refreshed
by this quick lesson out of time. Present
I surrender, my heart’s intent enmeshed:
together we transmute joy from lament.


Inspired by:  Refresh and Surrender and an industrious yellow-bellied sapsucker. The birds on the lake are showing up in force to bring me to the next level of my awakening.

The gorgeous photograph featured here is from

Lessons in Watchful Waiting

Let yourself not be misled by the notes that fall to you from the generous wind. Wait watchfully.  Hands that are eternal may come to play upon your strings.~Rainer Maria Rilke, Afternoon, Before Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis.


Green heron statue

eyes quick silver minnow school

patient stone pounces


Inspired by: Photograph, Quick, my beloved Rilke, and the delight of watching a green heron at breakfast this morning.

Featured image is a gorgeous photograph by Gregg Thompson.

By Any Other Name

Green heron, shy, lovely, not green

red and gray and blue, white

and yellow, huddled now like a shore

rock, while mourning doves flutter

and half-step, red-winged blackbirds

kiss in midair, swallows dive and orioles

sing orange from behind green leaves.

Still and patient, solitude

alert amid the dance in the air

watching too the flickers underwater

spelling us all into forgetfulness

with all of that unmoving

does my awareness touch 

your sinking deeper into the tall

grasses, not here, shhh, all

the disjointed improbable colors

gentle-blended into the quiet waiting.

Each of us, uniquely qualified

step into the role of our lifetimes

being here now with loving hearts.

Inspired by a patient, shy green heron.

Featured image found here.

Inside Job

By making a firm commitment to being ruthlessly honest with yourself and exploring your own inner dimensions via meditation, self-enquiry, contemplation, etc, you are opening up the possibility of the birth of a true revolutionary.~Caitlin Johnstone

Today I grapple with grief
and binoculars, weighty beliefs
and a light touch on the iron
in the fire, my desire for a new leaf.

My messengers tease me into flow
fierce males protect the nesting, show
their prowess, diving fearless, impelled
by right action, never bespelled, they know

on such a day I emerged from the womb
after forty weeks of listening, classroom
of epigenetic trauma I choose to integrate
called here in this perceived moment of doom.

Under chemtrailed skies, domesticated
opinions entrained dissonance dated
in a fearful past at last I unplug
from this drug my dearest loves sedated

At the feeder, still in orioles’ sight
bright bursts of nature’s song in me alight
creating always under leaden skies
never extinguish what is real, the light.


Train of Thought

“Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears Today of Past Regrets and Future Fears~Omar Khayyám

out here with the beings who keenly fly
attuned to the sky clock routinely, why
do I ever retire to the box-wired
prison, the matrix of beliefs bone-dry?

my dreams lift me back to balance
what my heart might behold and sing
immense truths words fail to hold though I try
tuning my instrument in the wellspring

earthbound where we’re recycled lift your voice
this moment is alone what we rejoice
our mother’s gift too vast to comprehend
we breathe, receive, and give this now our choice.

Inspired while reading The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyám at dawn on the porch while birdsong coaxed the light.

Now Agents

“When I walk away from what doesn’t feel good, I become an agent of walking away.  It is important to know–for our evolution–what we walk away from.  What is needed now?”~Thomas Huebl

I choose to be an agent of light
tune in with composure, unsure
yet precise. Revel in love
as opportunity writhes at my feet
each step of my way in this
coherent now. The complex how
too much to see.
I open, focus
with glee. Liquid joy enters
my world here: have you heard
the transmutation-spell sung by
birds? This oriole, a brilliant
orange alchemist produces
gladness in this human world’s
stuck fear and sadness, words
meant to point to the immensity
fall limply, hypnotized
name-calling, attacks and scorn
keep falling, desperate to deflect
the looming threat a gift from which
we flee what’s actually an invitation
to inspect the ancient structures
we project in time and space which
move our descendants with ill grace.
I focus on the central point.
What is collapsing never was real
a memory lapse.
Love fills the gaps
new connections far beyond
what we can grasp
the trilling notes pierce the
perception of our cages
we reach out with gentle
choice spacious
we find our voice
rejoice we all are agents.