Transcendence - Three Poems

Mid-Morning's Knowing

The rusted funnel of
my consciousness
wanders among the
clouds
of mid-morning's knowing.
Only the butterfly
understands the
tunnel of lightness
that has opened,
that has swallowed me whole,
resisting nothing,
saying nothing,
holding only the knowing of
trust
and
faith.

Mere words
cannot encompass
the promise of
daylight,
or even one fine
dim moonbeam...
and who's listening anyway!
Now the drum of
the infinite
Oneness
has begun to play.

And if you drop your agenda,
only this moment is
pregnant with
the opportunity to
blossom -
or erupt -
into the ferocity
of the
rays of light dancing
wildly on the surface of the Sun,
and an infinite amount of
power
becomes available -
if not easily attainable.
Nothing is impossible.
The sky keeps expanding
and the further along the road
you meander,
the closer to heaven you feel,
until...

This
moment
has arrived.

Heaven is no place.

God is no one...
but everything...
the very fabric of Life.

Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The rhythm of the very air
pulses our
limited forms alive,
living consciousness.

All the churches would
crumble
if we knew this,
really, they would.
All their dogmas
doctrines -
dos -
don’ts -
suddenly seem like
made-up
Monopoly rules.
That's $50 if you
land on Park Place...
no, make it $150.
Right.
Rent.
I get it.
HA!

Yep, the walls would
erupt in insidious laughter,
and people,
once filling the aisles with
impoverished souls
full of guilt and
hostility,
would run away singing, dancing,
peals of laughter echoing
off the decrepit stone walls,
and cast away their
beliefs and superstitions
like moth-eaten nuns' habits
and dive, naked and shameless
into the effulgent,
glowing sea.

The stars have extinguished
my searing pain and
I will never know that
form of limitation again.
Only limitless freedom.
And now, life begins.

___________________________


Please

How much quieter the ranks would usher forth
if the path wasn’t so strewn,
one broken being after the next,
quivering boulders and bleeding windfall.
The flock undulates with an unseen pull,
the drive to over-step, over-come,
over, over, over...

Now, in this place beneath the quickened waterfall,
I have learned a new approach
that honors all time and even the
verdant mass of webbing roots asks
for forgiveness when their own strength
moves into an uncontrollable fit of expansion.

A little light-filled being has found our
conversation and
even the trees have pulled their chairs closer,
hoping to hear,
no,
to feel the secret
he has come to share
shhh...now close your eyes.

Whoosh...
I have fallen through the
steely gutter into volcanic reality;
My hands have fed the spring-green leaves
and the umbilical pulse we share
is now finalized in the tapestry of
earth and stars.

_________________________


Infinity

As you draw those lazy signs of infinity
on my flesh,
you remind me that there are
some days
that really need no form,
and they are beautiful
in just as many ways
as a perfect day,
planned and arranged,
ordered and successful,
tidy.

Infinity
is rarely tidy.

Wander through the woods with me,
just occasionally,
and maybe we will hear the lonely cry
of a tiny bird
flying high above the trees...
he’s decided that winter isn’t so hard
after all
and here is really a good place to be
for now.
In counterpoint with our
footsteps and breath
is the fresh rush of freezing cold water,
almost silent in its ever present
echo.
(Sometimes it’s really easy
to forget the things that are always here,
like the sky and the ground.
But not today.
The birds have reminded me about the
sky and the ground
today.)

Today,
Infinity is the tip of your finger,
dancing its way across my
limited point of awareness.
This moment is
just enough.