It ain’t nothing but some galactic mathematical equation being played out,
In backwards time.
Everything is wrong. All told and telling.
Genocide on my plate.
Raw feeling overspilling—
Genocide small and large everywhere.
Eco-terrorists, the lot of us,
“Progressing” by chocking earth and sea in plastic.
Exiled from balance,
From the core feminine.
How is this chaos rendering?
Why are we led?
Are we even seen?
Why do we even act?
What can it all possibly lead up to?
Can there really be meaning, at such scale?
Even if there was, would it ring true?
Or, as Terry Pratchett implied—
It’s all a game.
So which side is winning?
Just a walk in the park in the evening—
The chaos in the mind melts away in the cooler breeze,
Summer flowers layer the air with heavy sweetness,
And the streetlight plays a game of golden shadows with the trees.
There are still blessings,
Wherever we may see,
But time, it runs and leaps and bounds away—
We have to do,
We have to dare,
We have to save the Earth!
In 10 years we may not recognize our lands and seas!
What will you do?
So it’s very simple really.
I’ve discovered that of all things, what the human system most needs is rest.
If you’re spinning round and round, just take a little time for you.
Don’t pack in a vacation or an experience or an activity.
It’s time to BE.
Feel the softness of life,
Feel the essential sweet touch of each day,
And come away grateful and renewed,
Ready to dance in the world again!
Where is Life to be found?
Out in the world, in the melee,
Or is it still a full life,
If it’s books and flowers and the sun,
That you choose?
Green Magic (By Radhika Mukherjee)
Nature still works!
It’s March and right on cue, there’s brilliant green everywhere,
The trees have woven beautiful new foliage for themselves.
They know it’s time,
They read the wind and earth and water,
And this is what they say, ‘We will uphold nature, will you?”
There is an edge to hope,
That even when it floats away,
Clings as a shadow of wonder,
To the corners of the spirit.
Let it flower within you today,
Let it rise.
Smile at hope,
And hope will smile upon you…
Who knows what the two of you can do?
The mango tree knows it’s time for spring.
It blooms before we’ve even noticed the warmth.
The parrot sings exultingly,
Wheeling in celebration.
Go tell the cold night air,
The summer smell is here!
Did you know that blood smells of rust?
That our starburst mangled bodies die to awaken?
That in all the liminal space of time—
Truths unfold in ontological puzzlement,
Amazed at their own impertinence?
For what is anything amid infinity?
And where’s the space for infinity in our small is?
The renderings of visions wild,
All these data streams of forever dreams—
Will we ever truly reconfigure?
There is a silent, screaming, streaming smile—
There is a thunderous rapture building—
Just out of reach.
Walk into the whirlwind—
From afar I watch a mansion crumble,
I watch the inconceivable take shape,
And somehow, I am strengthened in my self.
Somehow, I feel the essential taut granite in me,
The one that holds up the truth.
Today I know that if there is to be any hope,
We each have to ascend.
Find our power, flex it,
And go heal this earth of ours.
Is that the shape of heartbreak?
Is that an angel that ascended?
Or the whisper of our hidden wings?