In tune with the weight of the moon
Even in the morning there is light
A way to pass into the realm of waves
If I stare hard into the twisted shapes
Sense can be made of a day
Sense can be derived from a universe of misalignment
Turn the malformed mass on its side
A new birth awaits every solitary station
Look into the eyes of a statue
A soul is frozen in every stone
Look deep into the eye of dear moon
She is telling us we’re not quite alone
She is telling us there is solace in cyclical motion
Telling us the story of all incantations
That the bright shines behind our eyes
perception
The Separation of Time
It often starts the same way, with no thoughts and no direction. It’s almost like a prayer: I am open and willing to be led into the spirit of giving. Sometimes the thread weaves into a beautiful web, intricate and decidedly serene. Sometimes the wandering lust manages a coup, and away to the battlefield we go. Today, I don’t know. It seems like we’re just here. We’re here in the train going nowhere. The distance varies in theory, but the destination remains the same. It’s not the philosophy of present moment hogwash. It just the kiss of time as she breezes by. She leaves us with debris and belongings. I often forget to thank her for the living gifts. Today it is still and right. Each moment a fluid circle.
It Takes All to be All
There are so many things to consider when being a human in this life. The speed of thought and travel velocity is become the topic of concern. Where is this madness taking us? Where are we going at such a rate. Some will always say its toward our own demise. Others will argue its evolving into a better life for All. It seems that acceptance comes more easily to some, and the death spiral is still the path of others–all wanting simply to be loved, appreciated, useful and secure, no matter what the outward elements betray.
There is no answer because there’s no question. There is only life as its always been since the inverted vortex unbeginning.
There stands a monument, in the mountains. It is but a flick on the continuum, but it’s meaning is everlasting. The pervasive entirety is good. It persuades a cynic like me to surrender. It fills the void or vacuum with intangible wellness and safety. There’s a medium of chaotic bliss. We are blessed with never, ever, having to know or understand. We shall always retain at least one mysterious non explicable notion in the theater of All.
Brown is Fire
Why does brown makes me think of fire?
Even though black or red
Should take care of that better.
It doesn’t matter
It’s what the dream said.
As I was laying in bed
The world was descending upon me
As I was rising to the surface.
“Brown is the color of fire”
Is it the end of Autumn
That makes me think of losing everything.
But it’s the start of Spring
When everything is new and green.
Do these words try to convey
Some meaning some command to obey.
Or is it just a dream to be lived as a dream.
In colors in fire.
In everything that mixes together
When I’m away in the hills of slumber
I see and hear things better
The Grand Insignificance
What starts so seemingly big, ends in supreme insignificance. A nervous feeling, a throbbing sinus structure, a number of swishing thoughts through the mental membranes–all conspire to fabricate a reality of facts.
Then I look up at the early April Sun, warming my face from more millions of miles away than I can understand. This perspective is not a thought, but shift of reality, and it comes slamming into earth like a meteor, a contextually small particle that can easily disrupt the temporary function of another larger particle.
The science may astound, but it is the vast mystery that fills me. The insignificance of it all is what makes me feel grand.
Diamond
My illusion is grand today.
It presents a new quotient of thrills.
An infinite amount of space to fill.
Another chance to find the way.
Buildings sky and people’s faces.
Some things of beauty I must turn away.
Artificial simulations provide no grace.
The magic floats rose upon the grey.
Armed with cannons of illusory invention
I aim trajectory to further bounds.
This grand facade of surface tension.
Is coming down.
A neutron bomb of beauty comes.
To vaporize the pomp and fluff
Leave behind only the true one.
My diamond in the rough.
I do a lot of scraping on the carbon hardened surface.
This imaginary protocol of modern life.
Just below the impenetrable crust lies the interminable purpose.
Deep deep dreams, dolphins at the bottom of the ocean, my wife.
Space in Between
What are these sounds? Vowels and consonant Japanese? It pleases me to know that this city brings the world together.
Still we all see ourselves as separate, different. Sometimes I see the ever changing infinite variety of an organism. Whole and complete, not in a goofy hippy sense, but in a completely unfathomable scientific mystical babies born from thin air number of stars equals grains of sand why did she do that I’ll never understand sort of way.
What about the space in between the electrons protons neutrons quarks and strings. It’s an inward fractal spiral of thought if my mortal mind gets caught. It must be love. The intangible antimatter anti energy. The force that binds.
I’ve pondered this space in between, the thoughts taking me to places I care to never see again. Now there is peace in the not knowing. And that space is growing. Letting in much more of that which I will never know.
New Jersey
New Jersey, where have you been all my life?
I’m sorry I have only used you.
For passing through you.
For this I am truly remorseful.
Your beauty and marvel are beyond my comprehension.
I’ve not been worthy of your true Constitutional companionship.
I kneel in awe and pray you bestow.
Your blessings upon me once again.
As I once again pass through on my dull and mortal crusade.
Blind still to your majestic envelopment.
Butterfly on Black
What is this little blinking butterfly of light?
That appears before my eyes
It does not come at night
Only when the Spring or Winter days are bright
I come indoors and there it is
Following my gaze, obstructing, distracting
With its wings ghostly pulses
Translucent and amazing
Absorbed when looking into white
Yet proudly dancing upon the darker surfaces
She will never let me look directly at her
Darting just aside as I try to focus
Does anyone else see her?
What other apparitions of beauty am I deceived by?