Little Light

Little light up in the sky,
I watch as you pass me by,
I wish that you would land my dear,
Come visit me and snuggle near.

Dreams seem broken long ago,
In waves that seem to ebb and flow,
A mirror shattered, shards of glass,
Drops of blood as minutes pass.

Time gone lost, I say goodbye,
You stay aloft up in the sky,
No knock comes at my bedroom door,
I think I’ll sleep and say no more.

When that final breath is drawn,
And I’ve seen my final dawn,
It won’t be tears of joy I cry,
That little light has passed me by.


photo by: michaelmoselle

She Shall See Again (A Poem)

Through twisted tales of Neverland,
A soul that’s born as thee,
Was told a lie that many tell,
That blind girls cannot see.

In misty dreams and darkened caves,
Her heart was bent and torn,
Yet through the dust and crimson grime,
A warrior was born.

One day to never doubt again,
One day to never bend,
A warrior’s snarl shall crest her lips,
When she shall see again.

She heard an honest poem once,
A man who loved her so,
She could not drop her sword and run,
Her shield would not let go.

Through words and whimsies she told those lies,
She thought that she was blind,
One day she’ll come to realize,
The blindness was in her mind.

One day she’ll rise to claim her throne,
She’ll decide just where and when,
In that moment a Sun shall rise,
And she shall see again.


photo by: porph

Under the Moon

I once heard a sparrow’s song,
“Tis me, your soul, in Spring,”
To which I replied “hello my dear,
I never did learn how to sing.”

I walked a little further til,
A flower called out in bloom,
“Won’t you come and rest here awhile,
And share a song Under the Moon?”

A man so full of wistful thoughts,
Who’s seen this life’s sunsets,
Knows the path his heart and mind must take,
From all his life’s regrets.

In the end the sparrow always leaves,
The rose, it wilts and dies,
But the man who’s learned to love again,
Forgets to say goodbye.

One day will come that final dusk,
For some it comes too soon,
But the lucky one, he got to sit,
With you Under the Moon.


It’s There

I know you are hurting. I know you are weak even in the strength you have described. I know you are afraid despite your protests of fearlessness. I know you feel alone despite the throngs of people around you.
You are never alone, my love. Within you resides a voice, a voice that is begging to be heard. Go within to hear it. It’s there, singing a song you need to hear. It’s there, hitting notes that you, yourself, have written long before you were born. It’s there, offering a harmony that you, yourself, have composed.
You feel that fear. It travels through you like a jolt of selfish electricity, yet within you there is a flame. Go within to find it. It’s there, warming up the coldest reaches of your heart. It’s there, crackling and raging while lighting up the pathways that you seek. It’s there, consuming all the debris and lies that fear will leave scattered about your mind. Let it burn, and let it burn freely.
You know that weakness. It leaves you dizzy in the high places you wish to climb, and leaves you paralyzed along the valley trails when you wish to see the greatest heights. Go within to find your courage, it’s there just waiting to be awakened. It’s there dancing among the demons you think you see, and the dreams you hide beneath your veil. It there, growling at the lies you tell yourself, howling at the pretense you have chosen to make your own.
I know you are hurting, my love, but know that you are loved. Know that all you ever have been and ever will be is neatly kept within you. Know that when you decide the time is right your song will be sung, your fire will burn brightly, and your beast will rise above the ashes. Choose wisely, and know that I am with you.

To the Ledge and Back

I remember once sitting on a cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of land and sky before me. I felt so alone, yet so alive. There was life, and death, before me in a sea of rest and commotion. I sat in stillness, completely active as a breeze gently rustled the autumn leaves around me.
Thoughts went back to moments that seem an eternity ago, before my own death and resurrection. There seemed to be a simplicity in the anger, and a comfort in the darkness. I was born into a sea of black, scourged by the mindless and conceived by a mind lost in the chaos. I believed the fault of their sin was all my own, and took their misguided thoughts as some gospel to which I owed my sanity.
Great loss and pain cascaded over me like a cocoon. I became but an infant, a chrysalis hung to a branch. Though I fought and struggled, the confines of my prison tightened around me. There was no escape as the blessings of fate’s love embraced me whole, with the very blessings that I cursed, the very blessings that would save me.
I smiled at the recollection. There was no simplicity or comfort in those memories. I had adapted, and in a way adopted complexity as my simplicity, and suffering as my comfort. I remembered the instances where the beast would rear its ugly head, and I laughed in the instant. I would remember the moments of despair, and offer love to the boy as he cried. I would remember the times when the darkness was all I had to share, and I offered forgiveness to a heart left broken.
On the cliff I pray we all will sit one day, remembering the ledges of windows and rooftops we once stood, wondering if to jump was to live again. One the ledge we seek our own redemption, and we search our own inner peace. On the cliff we recognize them both. On the ledge we choose our own eternity, and on the cliff we pay homage to time that ceases to exist. We can learn so much from the ledge, and the climb we take to get there.
Today I sit with the vision of you, I want to feel your soul as your arms wrap tenderly around me and your lips gently kiss my shoulder. I want to feel a smile crest my lips as you call my name, and a tingle shoot down my spine as you take my hand in yours. I know I can endure your absence for a little while more. I been to the ledge and survived, now a lion with a forceful purr, a beast with a heart whose roar cannot be ignored.
I have fallen and risen; forgotten and learned to walk again. I have loved and lost and lost and loved and discovered who I am. I have been left alone to die in burning room of fear and found life anew in the smoking embers. What else is there? What else but fire can temper the strongest steel? That I do not know, but I long for the challenge sure to follow the Sun above my life’s horizon.
One day I’ll hear a sound come from behind me, and feel that shiver roll down my back. I’ll feel your hand brace itself on my shoulder, and watch you sit besides me on the cliff. There, we’ll think about the ledges we have stood, and when that scene is over in our minds we’ll turn, look in each other’s eyes, and kiss as lovers often do.
That will be a purpose of our journey. Each step, each climb, each fall, each forgotten moment will have brought us to each other on a cliff. There could be nothing wrong with any of it, and we’ll sit and stare across the vast expanse of land and sky and point to moving things that capture our attention. We’ll tell stories that excite us in the moment of our resurrection, and laugh at our own remarkable will to arrive. We’ll make love in the mountain grass, lost in the profundity of the moment. Then we’ll wash the grass stains off our knees, and walk quietly back to the cliff where it all began. Where it all continued. Where, on day, it will all end.
photo by:

Embracing the Zenith

Fear not, my dear, you are loved.
Though mountains may crumble as the seas toss in the throes of mindless quakes,
You are loved.
Though the angels may stop singing and the dreams may disappear,
You are loved.
For in the swirl of living melancholy you held my hand,
And I will never leave your side.

Know this, my beating heart,
That though the skies may fall and the stars may dim,
I will not falter.
For I’ve faced the demons of my mind and tended the cracks in my open heart,
Preparing for your arrival.
And though a faulted human I may be,
A warrior stands, basking in the glow as you rise above the horizon.

For in the shards of flesh I’ve left behind,
In the drops of blood and tears I’ve left to stain the footprints of my life,
I’ve always heard your whisper.
As I stand, love’s devoted sword in weathered hand,
Clear, mountain air filling my tested lungs,
I now whisper in reply.

I whisper as these fingertips write soulful messages upon your skin,
A sweet kiss placed somewhere gently, a moan echoes in reply.
My mouth follows the pathways of your heart, until, you can no longer hear a thing.
You, my drink, body quivering in its sweet repose,
Bathing in the sweat that seeps from every pore,
Knowing we have earned our time upon this sacred altar.

Love has tattooed you in me, and me in you,
Forever etched upon the annals of eternal memory,
Meshed with a solemn vow, nothing to be the same again.
Courage has opened the door to truth,
We’ve chosen to step through the threshold,
Into a room where no walls exist at all.

I shall not forget your absence as I relish the sight of you,
I will give the night its gratitude, darkest before the dawn.
There will be the testaments of an orchestra tuning up their sound before the show,
Then a silence, now in honor of the symphony we are writing,
Your heart ablaze, my soul on fire in return,
The maestro sets the tempo.

Then, a respite as we crumble to the floor,
Exhausted, love reigning down like drops from a single cloud,
A raging torrent, still and calm in its fierceness.
Truth, it seems, is like that when you’re embracing in the zenith,
Remembering the valleys down below, and the heights we’ve had to climb,
Forgetting all we’ve lost to get here.


photo by: JohnnyLCY

Patient (A poem)

Could you ever know,
How patient I have been?
Waiting in the line of life,
Trembling with anticipation,
Feeling the lost grasp but knowing still its possibility.
I trust where I am going.

Though beautiful it may be,
The flesh only excites the surface of me.
I seek the core where light is born,
The space where you truly exist,
Not singing human praises to human ears,
But whispering solemn hymns, known in parts of me that only know the sacred chants of love.

Yes, these fingertips wish to draw on you,
Raise bumps of sheer delight from your soul,
This heart wishes to touch your own,
Hear rhythm ringing through the ether like a drumbeat,
Calling out your name,
Hearing you echo in return.

I don’t miss the sand between my toes,
I have the view of thousand of steps before my eyes,
Come see it with me, like a stairway to heaven,
And know that you are found,
Alive in safety, alive in love, alive in truth,
Seeking the flame that lights the way.

I desire, and I have waited.
You may never know how patient I have been,
Stepping lightly around the potholes,
Sweetly jumping over the crevices on this path,
Resting on the jagged boulders that line the way.
Knowing that soon…

7 Keys to My Happiness

Truth be told, life isn’t always happy. It isn’t meant to be. Sometimes we need guideposts that point us in the right direction. Sometimes those signs are lit softly by beautiful street lamps that coax us in a particular direction. Others are lit by unpredictable torches that flare as we approach them, the resulting fear and blisters send us on another way. A hot stove will always point our hand in the proper direction.

Here are 7 keys (outside of the Four Agreements) that I’ve found that have led me to a pretty happy life.

  1.  Accept the emotional state you are in. Embrace your emotional state, whatever it may be, and cherish it. Resistance to a negative emotion often gives it greater power, while embracing it weakens its grasp. You will then be better prepared to act should you choose to change it.  I’ve actually started laughing, when in the throes of negative emotions, simply by saying “I love you” to that emotion while envisioning hugging it like a long-lost love.
  2. You can’t do everything. Accept it, or you will always live in a state of disappointment. There are wondrous limitations in being human. For example, you can’t fly and you can’t breathe under water unassisted. Those boundaries exist to keep us focused on those miracles we can create, and those acts that make us the wonderful beings that we are. Stop focusing on those things you cannot do, and stay attentive to the things you can. Within those things, you can be a wondrous creator.
  3. Discover what makes you happy. The path toward enjoying this life is walking a path filled with happiness and joy. This is accomplished not just by being happy, but by experiencing those things that are contrary to that objective. Remember, you may often find what makes you happy in the shadows of things that don’t. Don’t be afraid of being unhappy, there is great value there.
  4. Your first act of service must be to yourself. I know, this sounds selfish. That’s because it is. Everything we do is rooted in selfishness, even the most selfless-seeming acts ever done. We react, or act, based on who we are in the moment. This means our the desires of our own self motivate our actions or reactions. Even when we do stuff we think we have to do, and not necessarily want to, is rooted in a selfish desire to be something. So, we must first be kind to ourselves if we want to be kind to others. We must first care for ourselves if we wish to be of care to others. We must first take into account our own needs before addressing the needs of others. Failure to do so will result in resentment, frustration, and self-loathing.
  5. Be prepared to succeed. This is essential to fulfilling our purpose. We all know what we want to do, what we find great joy and passion in doing. We don’t often fear failure or cherish success when we are doing something we love, because there is an underlying realization that there is great success already in doing what we love. The results are secondary to the activity, and the activity usually results in great success, regardless of how we define such success. However, for those of us not doing what we love, we often ignore our calling because we are afraid to fail.
  6. Don’t be afraid of burning bridges. There are certain roads we should never go down again, and we all know which ones they are. Don’t be afraid to burn the bridges that lead us back to those roads. Burn those fuckers right down to fine ash, and let those remnants scatter in the wind. That way, if you get tempted to go that way again, you’ll find a raging river of common sense impeding you in your moment of temporary insanity. You’ll be thankful for the discussion, and for the fact that you have no choice but to turn around and walk in a different direction.
  7. Don’t pay attention to what others think. This is pretty vital to my own happiness. I once tried the other way, believing that my own sense of happiness was dependent on others being happy with me. That never worked out so well, so I used that flaming torch (and the many blisters it created) to change my direction. Now, I seek to make myself happy, and I don’t listen to others who may have a different version of what I should be doing. That creates a condition where those who don’t like my version leave, and those who do come flocking to fill that space. See, a win/win for everyone!

The Fledgling

I know how a fledgling feels, bound to the nest yet knowing it can fly. Uncertainty at what lies beyond the safety of that space counters the natural desire to leave, and I will never know the safety of the skies until I jump from my earthen prison.
How I wish to taste that which I have never tasted, to see that which I have never seen. How I wish to hear you whisper in the cover of darkness, and awaken me as the Sun crests though our unveiled window! How I peak over the edge, wondering what life breathes out there! JUMP! I hear the echoes shout. If only I was brave enough to listen.
How I wish to feel your sweat on my flesh, hear your moans in the dance, and taste your nectar each and every night. There, the wind will take me by my wings, and I will soar high above the mountaintops! I shall land upon you, my perch, and nestle nicely in your arms once the flight is through.
I have known the nest for so long, I now want to know the wind. I have been in this tree my entire life, and now I wish to see the horizon as it is. I have seen the Sun from a distance, and now I wish to touch the face of Light herself. Then I want to kiss her, and then I want to feel her enter me.
The somber life is not for me. I want to risk my life and limb to fly. I want to cherish the times I land face first upon the ground, and honor the moments I rise, dust myself off, and take to flight again. I want to hear her say my name with loving admiration, with a singular devotion to truth of what we share within. I want our hands searching for each other’s in the night, discovering the sacred space that does not divide us, but binds us in our sacred oath.
Thus, the fledgling in me waits for you, my wind, my sky. The heavens abound and surround me, opening those moments when you will show me what I’m made of. There will be a song of praise as unused wings accept your grace and our union takes us to places we may have never known apart.
Such an intention surely cannot go unnoticed by the moment that is no longer forgotten in a litany of moments, but known intensely for its holy purpose. Surely such a bond between that which flies and the wind cannot be ignored by those who wish to soar. Surely it takes but a single act of courage and devotion to the voice that lives within us. I will meet you there.

Mostly Grateful

There are moments when I wish you were within reach…tempting me to hold you…causing my restraint.
Imagine swimming against the tide, searching for some jetsam on which to rest, wondering if my desire is the flotsam that clogs this path.
Imagine straining against the fiercest wind, shielding life and limb from the debris while summoning the strength to continue on.
That is me, searching for you. That is me, mostly grateful for knowing who you are, mostly grateful for knowing you exist. Despite the disappointment in your absence, I feel you there when I least expect it. Despite the realization that you may not know the power of this truth, I know there is a space within you that feels it too.
Such is the way things are in a Universe that spans depths few of us have seen. You remain there as I am planted here. Connected are we who know the greatest love of all, who feel the flow between us regardless of the length of the stream. Blessed are we who sail beyond our horizons toward unfamiliar shores, some of which demand our aloneness, others who bring us closer to our home.
“Trust,” I remind myself, “in this process of living. It knows where you must go. Just unfurl your sails and head where the winds will take you.”
So, I will. Perhaps we shall find our shoreline one day, perhaps we will put our feet in the same sand. Maybe we’ll climb a mountain and rest on the same boulder, drink from the same spring, and seek shade under the same tree.
I will be waiting.

What you feel is life, what you live is another story.


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