Rainbow Warrior

He rises up,
as do the many.
Head crowned,
with colors of light,
swirling around.

Fed up with greed,
and watching lies
and deceptions
offered only to receive
more and more greed.
He took as his task,
to look into his core,
and ask,
how ever,
can we be freed.

As the prophesy is told,
a Warrior of the Rainbow,
walking a path of gold,
shines a light on his shadow
to heal the world,
and as the drama unfolds,
he looks within
and beholds,
what is,
and will be.
For by his own projection,
all he sees
is only a reflection,
and all he hears
is just an echo,
to be let go.

The Cree, Hopi and Sioux Indians speak about mighty Rainbow Warriors that will inhabit our planet in the future and they will come in time of the great awakening.
A Native American prophecy tells us that “when the earth is ravaged and the animals are dying, a new tribe of people shall come unto the earth from many colors, classes, creeds and who by their actions and deeds shall make the earth green again.
They will be known as the Warriors of the Rainbow.”

great unknown misty sea

the great unknown misty sea

If I stare
into you,
I sense a staring
back at me,
and I feel the strong
misty sea,
call out to me.

“Come home,
where you’re from,
whenever and as often,
as you desire and are ready”.
It was the great unknown
that proved to always be
my life’s finest steady.

Stay in love

Stay in love

and it is here,
watching the grasses grow,
questioning everything
I think I know,
that nothing
makes any sense,
in a past or future tense.

Only the present
expresses itself,
and as long as
I give life to
the state of love,
I will be;


Spheres of light

in space and time,
these spheres of light.
My true thoughts and feelings
are within
states of awareness in flight.

Decreeing is ever-done
in consciousness,
with infinite states of being.
Its the foundation
of everything,
causing how I feel
and what I am seeing.

With a longing
to be controlled,
each state is
a self-contained bubble,
floating in the air,
that I can catch and hold,
until it becomes natural,
and what inly I wear.

I know,
there’s no one to
credit or blame
but self,
as my life
will always go
by way of
the state I choose,
good or bad,
win or lose,
and so does my
good or bad behavior.
When choosing a state
either knowingly or not.
I am my own devil
and / or my own savior.

what do you see?

When you
look at me,
what do you see?

A beautiful child,
or do you feel riled,
a better or worse,
a person or thing,
something to curse,
a new song to sing.

Does it cause you,
to love or to hate,
embrace friendship or fear,
have an inner debate,
smile or shed a tear.

Is Black or White
all you can see,
when you look at me?
Do you see life
from the dark
or from the light,
’cause other’s are looking
the same way at you and me.

a life of love

Living a life of love

Where have I
placed my attention?
What am I now aware of?
Which thoughts
are worthy of mention?
Am I living a life of love?

Its a time and setting
to another’s care.
Its an everyday thing,
not some special affair.
Sets the air on fire.
and if you dare
express our godliest desire,
an enchanted gaze
whose invisible thread
between us runs
and an electric charge
goes through my head
with the radiance
of a thousand suns.

Drawn to the light

She was drawn to the light,
invited by the color
coming through,
blending into her surroundings,
she became aware and knew.

She bent down
and sipped sweet nectar,
from flower pedals
drenched in morning dew,
listened to the forest sounds
recite their version of
‘the world according to.’

She was one with the scene,
in harmony with nature.
A part of everything,
as everything, was sure
a part of her;
and it carries her away,
every moment in everyday.

a white quartz heart

walking on a trail,
I focused my mind
on a tiny little detail,
and it was that part
of thought of you
which yielded
a white quartz heart.
Love was etched
in stone
along the path
I’m on
and walk upon,

The wisdom of the Owl

That night
of the lunar eclipse,
I walked quickly,
following a moonbeam pass,
along a path I divined.
I came upon some tall grass,
where a spotlight shined.

a mystical light skips,
along in the dark,
from a sliver in the eclipse,
and though barely recognizable,
I caught a glimpse
of a wet, limp
and well-concealed,
owl feather laying
in an open field .

I felt the owl looking down
from his place on the tree.
and as he watched me
I fell to my knees and asked,
“for who’s good can it be?”

Thinking it a sign
of something to come
I heard a whisper
and in the night air,
a soft, gentle hum,
“no, its a message,
its a message
of your freedom.”

As much as I
would like,
I may never know,
what’s really behind
whatever gifts I find,
wherever I may go.
But for the mystery
in my wonderful
human imagination,
that wisdom will
most assuredly flow.



Every morning,
in the wee small hours,
a hallowed time
of quiet and still.
Away from
all the mayhem
and my perfectly
misdirected will.

With no question
to ask or to answer,
no narrated blow by blow,
I just let go
and come to know,
the what and why
of my sacred I.