Snapshots…

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.”
― Maya Angelou

snapshots

Snapshots
of carefree days,
sunflowers in bright array,
resuscitating
downcast moods,
in contemplative interludes…

gratitude expressed
in words,
sometimes chirped
by early birds,
in brief moments, the unhurried muse,
gently bequeaths
breathtaking views…

 

Advertisements

Rebirth…

“Someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.”
― David Whyte

sacred fire

Dead trees wave
in remembrance of pain,
burnt out embers
starkly remain…
assuming a descent onto dark earth
brittle branches crack
coveting rebirth…

whispering
wondering
if resonance still lingers
of ailing limbs
where vitality withers,
and crashing and burning
to ashen gloom,
the kind earth receives grief
into her
womb…

 

Scattered blues…

monday blues

On days like this, in scattered blues
I’m quenched by
cerulean hues,
and breath gasps towards the heavens,
groping for
favorable blessings…

My feet unstable on the ground,
in ripples that splash,
conceding sounds,
that heave
beneath
melancholy sighs,
the lingering residue that stains the skies…

My spirit tossed into the waves,
acquiescing to
mercurial shades…

 

A spectacle of love

“… to be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others…”
― David Whyte

horses 2

He made a spectacle of love,
the unscathed motion
of his words
fell on longing…

And those who sought his gaze
found trajectories of
kindness
generosity,
devotion too astonishing
to pass by…

He was willing to let the world fall at his feet
but not without love,
because
without love
he was nothing!
an empty
meaningless
husk
an Earthling with no cause…

His honesty broke the canvas skies
he stood out,
though rejection wounded him
when they turned away

he became unknown…

and he sought answers
in despair
in folly,
finding mankind’s love
restrictive
flawed…

for in transitory barriers
of a broken Earth
love is too glib an expression
to pour out freely
to open,
sometimes even to believe…

You know that kind of love that remembers no wrongs
seeks not its own satisfaction,
to some
just a frail portrayal,
susceptible to stagnation…

His wait was not long

In shining vestibules
he grasped the perfection of love,
unlimited,
requiring nothing of him
but to be himself,
no need to clean up his act…

The pull was too strong
for him to resist
and he flew into belonging,
never again to be unwanted
or unloved
by those who
require absolution…

Bathed in the warm light of love his soul sung out and the energy of love transformed him,
spread him out across
the great expanse
like a shining vibrant jewel of color
and in cosmic waves of devotion
he awoke…

He was acceptable in the sight of love and his spirit eased,
for he knew all things,
and being immersed in the calming nature
of unconditional love

he became light……