Blushing Twilight

Overcome space, and all we have left is Here.  Overcome time, and all we have left is Now.  And in the middle of Here and Now, don’t you think we might see each other once or twice?~Richard Bach

The cornershop is closed in these strange times
and so my after-dinner path follows the weleful rhymes

chanted to compose the vivid gloaming
chorus of frogs conduct the glowing

light, each tender note met by a sweet blush
the lake reflects enamoured flush

there is no distance in this art
we presence love with open heart

a sacred moment’s symphony
allow divine miracles’ flow over me

deep listening brings tears
glistening my cheeks in tiny pairs

and I am changed
priorities are rearranged

my world will never be the same.

It’s Turtles All The Way

In yesterday’s imbalanced waking
parch overwhelmed me. Today
I determine to soothe

water and grounding these indignant
filaments writhing and buzzing
from the past’s unintegrated

barrage. I sit and extract
my personal fear, empowered
to heal myself, my family,

my lineage, society, the planet
the universe and more.
Time and distance constructs

—the illusion of separation—
dissolve, tumble like a child’s
castle made of blocks.

We build beliefs in our jangled
misperception of danger,
forget to knock them down

laughing and certain
of our power to create anew.
I tune in to what is

as all the ripples of my intention
create balance
here in the present

where I, a self-healing miracle
of love, resonate
a heartbeat, breath

infused in everything that matters
which is all, which is one,
awakening and taking the step now.

 

Dive Deep

Every data point is either false, exaggerated, or taken out of context. The conclusion is preconceived black propaganda void of sustaining analysis.~Scott Ritter

While we hurtle through the canyons
losing sight of our companions
the current tumbling us apart
where are we heading? we start
to succumb to a daydream, we scheme.
no one thing we can hang onto
where’s our civilization gone to?
our grasp desperate, inutile
resistance is futile
unintegrated past debris
we choke, we cannot breathe.
This severe acute respiratory
syndrome in the hands of story-
tellers with an evil aim
to gain the steering game
an influx of panic and fear
a threat to all we hold dear.
How can we take a bearing?
Be here now, gentle and caring.
Contemplate and as fear rises
acknowledge the surprises.
The military might outside the door
is not to save your life, now
calls for deep listening
open your heart. We’re glistening
like dew upon a flower.
Let this moment be our finest hour.
I’m here for you and you for me.
Shh. With this one breath dive deep.

Inspired by Contemplate, Daydream, Hang On and Bearing.

Featured image of “Indra’s Net: it’s a metaphor for inter-being” from thoughtco.com

In the fragile moments…

…love needs to run the show.~Thomas Huebl

Each factoid conflates and the
twittering ensues: a chirp of doubt
a caw of derision cues uneasy
flutters of the flock, buffleheads
suddenly alert. A silent bald
eagle swoops spiraling
a kick of panic, they rise
called to scatter, frantic.
It seems that things are breaking
away. The landscape shifts
earth shaking, heart aching.
Eerie, empty and the lap
of water here where I anchor
settle my electric nerves
though I may wish to fly
I find I’m rooted in relation.
How may I serve you?
Reactions seek ground. Out of
the box confined, away from
the flickering nervous screen
I bow before this glorious
life delightful flow
through me in ways
I cannot say. Silent now
leave the fray. Together
we will find a path
that’s kind. We go within.
Embrace the fear awaiting
I’m with you. In connection
we will hold a space
for what is true
emerging in our humble grace.

 

What We Carry

What happens when I become softer or warmer or slower when I feel myself?~Thomas Huebl

Two hawks kite and spiral through
the mating skies, summon me
solitary suburban witness with new-made
eyes and the intention to be precise.

My charade ingrained habit learned
with Peter Rabbit, hare-brained
beliefs I trust with my life.
What a gift to the world when

I examine my burdens unnamed
I’ve ignored to declaim
global trauma. Summon
a shaman. These hawks suffice.

Tell me why do I
combine all my unmet moments
to project on the wide screen?
My routine battle a smokescreen

bypass my contribution,
I demand absolution but
I cannot be vulnerable,
take risks in love. I hover above

can’t even breathe,
spinning in the whirlwind
threats of a pandemic,
old structures collapse endemic

to the separation myth. How
can I give myself now
what I never received?
Reality misperceived.

I call like an urgent raptor
dare to name these shadows.
In our connected place,
I hug myself in quiet space

a warm regard, a love embrace.
Root and ground like a great
tree–and touch so delicately
pain I hold yet cannot free.

My healing song invites
the places I’ve condemned
to simply be a hymn
resonating I bring my darkness to the light

bring all of me. The beings calling
from the skies here now the key
I finally heed. Witness my fear
with me? All you have is mine, I finally see.

 

Featured image of Cooper’s hawk credit.

Like The Sunset Instructs

In the long summer evenings,
I scout the perfect view of his

passage, ready to switch tracks
when cloud banks mystify.

I watch the slow slip into
a horizon that keeps expanding

ever westward. Here in July,
the sun never sinks, simply slides

lower to blush the sky with tickles.
Clouds and the waters painting

in glorious improbable colors
that will lead to silvery

nights reflecting the play
to no end. And though I check

my lunisolar app, try to arrive
a good half hour before the

calculated setting, the changes
open what is always outside of time

like clues to a new dimension.
This is how it goes, gently,

inexorably, a shocking delight.
Senses stroked and plucked

by newness, the fullness
of experience. The bold inventive

light, sometimes a lunatic
visionary musician playing

in scales too high, too deep
for our attentive ears.

Our cells respond.
We hum and thrum below

our apparent sensibility.
Abandon all useless clocks

here at the threshold.
The key–musical mystery–opens

this portal where the fabric
slips, the loose threads unravel.

Don’t waste recrimination
on the illusions which held

our focus, grinding down our
spirits, chasing the dollars

so essential to survival.
This is a different way of life.

Perhaps the manna of our
heartsight is what truly

nourishes us. Bathed in this
nightly ritual, I fast longer each day.

My needs dwindle as I turn
to count these four, the

resources of my birth. Earth and fire and
water and air. (Now collected

so pay to drink, to set foot on holy
ground. Gasp, bleary-eyed through

the chem-trailed air while the forests
burn. The plutocrats exchange foul

grins and dirty money
laundered in the once clear streams.)

What impels this greed,
plotting to wring

the last drops of the planet?
Will they flee to terraformed

colonies on the moon, Mars,
and beyond? Dissonant fools.

United at last in sacred
consciousness, all beings

enter the vibrant
fibers of our nervous systems

—so much grander than we
have perceived, linking us all.

We stroke each other
like the sunset instructs,

gentle, playful vibrations lingering
tenderly, calling illumination

through the darkest clouds
in this newly painted vision

of who we truly are.

 

Inspired by: Scout, Mystify, Switch and Passage.  And yet another lovely sunset that slipped out of time.