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?
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—
We do a great disservice to the world, when we describe it, perceive it, classify it only through an evolutionary paradigm. All around, there are birds flying for the sheet joy of it, looping across the sky; monkeys whooping and playing and taunting dogs; there is a cow and a cat making friends… And the sun, great fiery ball of hydrogen though it may be, is smiling across to us from that unimaginable distance this fine end-of-summer day.
Even in our ‘modern’ ‘scientific’ minds, surely there is some space to expand our perception of this Earth, this Universe, to include love, the play of the spirit and sparkling, connecting joy?
Irrespective of species?
The mind extends beyond the body, it has to. If we can accept wi-fi, why can’t we think of our brains as being able to transmit waves of thought and intention? It’s all the co-mingling of matter and energy and vibrations, isn’t it?
What if the purpose was not to merely ‘evolve’? But to experience? To add? To feel?
What if each life, each rock, each drop of water, was an end in itself?
Forget about the sun,
You who have not seen the sky an age—
Your shadows burn too dark.
I will sing in the sunlight,
I will dance in the rain!
I will find the light buried deep…
You experience love only through grief,
You cut yourself and others with your cold.
How will you ever fit into normal?
I carry the echoes of old wounds,
But I smile all the same.
I am me. I am. I just am!
You are one who cannot look upon a newborn child,
In the creeping cold you lie alone,
You birth weird words and wasteful things you call stories!
My words are my spirit guides,
They are healing and warming and companionship,
Bleeding away the dark like pink lightning—
With them I march,
With them I speak,
With them I am heard.
Read this week’s short story: Waiting
There is a jewel everywhere you look,
A glowing sunset trapped in each fragile moment,
In each hour whiled away in noise.
Treasure the rare moments of silence,
The chance to dive deep—
Into the truth.
Into the absoluteness of the self,
To the heart of the world.
One my favorite things in the world is a sunset. The drama! The splendor! The colors!
Here’s a few shots from a particularly gorgeous sunset!