Category Archives: timelessness

Twine of Earth and Sky ~ Beholden

if I could open all the mysteries that daunt

would there not yet be another mystery lain

at yet another level or circuit of my being?

 

what of this earth and sky that is not seen

but felt in the bones and in the electrical pulses

throughout this finely tuned cutting, this scion

 

what am I cut from and what does carry me

in these ways that have many names, one

of which might be apocrypha or rubric lost

 

we have come upon things inexplicable, yet

somehow we are not at peace nor openly greet

that which is beholden to vastness and fire

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we have looked upon our own center, that void

where the eye cannot see nor rightly focus

something of what we are, a purity in depth

 

and simplicity simultaneously defies convention

all things gathering and also falling around

this shockwave that has no compass or steer

 

perhaps that is the mystery, somehow we are

free of place and time yet conjure it still as

everything we do and say, playing at substantiation

 

we catch ourselves again and again in the folly

of needing to know how to come and go

when in coming there is the going ~ no distance

 

Twine of Earth and Sky ~ Bless of Being

 

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The tides turn and turn, shifting

but still there is little to scour

 

Flotsam is not splayed about

upon the beach-like shores

 

Yet light glints off a found face

sparking brilliantly its presence

 

This seeing is by an eye observed within

of the heart cracked with a new interiority

 

What of this seeing  when it doesn’t match

any concentrated sense of what it is to exist

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Does that suggest that this light, the glint

from within, is false or imagined somehow?

 

Heartily no! This shine is even brighter yetIMG_20150729_193458476

as it is seeing that has gained its illumination

 

We’ve somehow always known we see partially

whether we look closely or beg far-sightedness

 

What once remained mute in its invisibility

cascading like dark matter in vast space

 

Now is our epigenetic wonder and remaking

solace of grace and forthrightness of splendor

 

 

The Hourglass

Something is so tired

The eyes want to close

The attention drawn inward

It is as if nothing belongs anywhere

 

Even tracing that which notices

feels like sand falling down

the neck of the hourglass

only this hourglass is timeless

 

So fall and fall again

I am fascinated that we ache to

collect ourselves in the falling

and make as if we are solid

 

What I call falling might be

indiscernible to others. But is

not that fear’s trace broadcasting

its signal creating that unknown?

 

Fear seems inherent in this falsely

time encapsulated existence

Yet we, ultimately timeless, can see

ourselves and somehow fall awake

 

A Letter as Separate Self Dissolves

Things are just as they are

The many paper doll covers drop away

 

That which Plays does not leave, however

Only the kind of playing that was borne

 

Of striving, play acting, a wish to stand out

Somehow different, as if what we truly Are lacks.

 

No more pretending called for, although pretense

Arrives from time to time, leaving its calling card as

 

Residue, the way sour milk leaves its trace on the glass

The I can momentarily forget that it is Luminous, Empty,

 

That which Knows –and if it wears anything, it is stitched

Together entirely of Love and glows simply as Experiencing.

 

 

San Cristobal, NM

16 February 2015

 

Overt Folly Gentle Song

In the leaving always a return
As sure as spring follows winter
And yet long are some winters
Uncharacteristically long ~ forgetting yet
What rests within ~ a supreme patience
And a recognition that pales any other

In this realm Timelessness reigns
and there is no departing that scars

Such is the wisdom of Life, life beholden
That voice rising along the purest of paths
Untainted from what seem too many diversions
Beacons all from the same source
The oil of that lamp eternal font
Cascade in all measures, as well as none

We come together here, this confluence
the large and the small, high and low
Traveling farther than reaches seen
sooner than expected and later too

This perfection is the last thing to wear that name
Its warmth need never be restored
As what appears to falter is not That
Even what appears to never falter is not That

And as another winter approaches
Its spring calls simultaneously
All bound together in the same music
Note by note  warmth and pale, bright and cool.

Sky Dogs

the dogs are in the sky

in the clouds

the colors are their sniffing ground

I walk with them  wild openness

nothing tethered

their playing field

is pure changeability

from one moment to the next

 

the sky dogs roam

but in their roaming

come home again and again

never leaving the vastness

of their infinitude

bedding down only

in the thunder and

the lightning

 

howling and braying

cascading down the gorge

the tender-footed ones

follow the light traces

wings of birds

starlight

the calls of coyotes

and bright cactus flowerings

 

they dig

and dig deeper

into my being

pirouettes and thermals

carrying me to the

outer atmosphere

beyond any longing

swimming a rarified ocean

 

and as I follow

will I tip onto the other side

even imagining

another side

has the weight of

pretend and posture

this vastness holds

no bars on any spiral

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Acknowledgment

birthing and dying simultaneous actions

twilight and break of day cannot be disjoined

music and silence virtually one and the same

so why do we carry such pretense as

playing as if there is only life creative

without life dismembering itself too

our bags are overfilling as we carry

the carcass of all that has already

departed  carrying on the pattern

of What Was tripping over What Is

forging some remnant nonexistent now

into something we pay homage over and over

memorializing as a preoccupation takes over

while the beautiful concerto of life / death

carries on all around us in every way and thing

listening now to the music and the silence

welcoming birthing and dying simultaneously

such moves in us breath in breath out

to RUH and the crystals of consciousness, too

The Yes That Rests

My friends the journey we are on

is astonishing

The capacity to relax as What Is

breathes in us

Tickling the odds into something

odder still

The Yes that has been resting

as pure Being

Since before and outside of time

whispering ever

Not even the slightest touch of

stern   effortlessly waits

And when it is come upon

just so

I’m not sure what astonishes more

that presence

Or the suddenness of recognition

-There All Along-

Like a bolt of lightning and

lightening both

Takes the breath away aloft

of preoccupations


The preferences forged amidst stress

of polar opposites

And forgetting the stark beauty of

All That Is

~

What captures our attention

rays of light

Reflecting the prism of the mind

in its dance

Or attention within awareness

as awareness

Where the Yes that rests

as Itself

Needing no argument nor

push against

Opening out even without opening

simply presents

Offerings

I place the paper

out where I can

see it in passing

Days go by

waiting for the

precipitation that

earlier

came as barometric

shift somehow gauged

in this weathervane

 

Words start popping

through like vestiges

of a spring-like rain,

blessings

in this winter of winter-

day, warming and fragrant

worn like undergarments

in a drafty house

offerings

to the Knowing Emptiness

Stir The Pot (taste the life)

With each veil, whether opaque or transparent
There you are, such that the phenomenon
Of ‘behind’ a veil takes on a new slant.
You’ve redefined it for me in the juxtapositions
You carry, heavily, awkwardly, and some tenderly.

For ‘behind’ becomes ‘out in front,’ the evening drunkenness
Marries with the sober mess of another day
Creating one breathtaking yet somber step
In the choreography of this life, the life
You have surreptitiously invited me to witness.

Which of these veils lay, in their transparency,
Across your heart? How do you know
Your own heart when that which obscures lends
Its fashioning to nearly every breath you take?
What, in your own private ken, can take your breath away?

Why not let it be so even here, even now.
Regardless of what it could bring, what could
Be said of you, of the other. Melt, like the snows,
That brick of larder sheltered in the walk-in
Of the kitchen of your existence. Taste.

What is here. Taste. Join me in the life that is yours.
Join me in taking in the smells, the fragrances.
Yes, you may suffer immunity from those. Walk
Anew into your own life through my eyes,
Landing there in a freshness that is Timeless.

May these words beckon to you in the way
Your touch has softened something in me,
Even in your withholding. For touch is beyond
Flesh, includes flesh, is the origins of flesh,
Something more than the senses that sees, hears, and listens yet.