Awakened Imagination

Here I am.
You asked me to come,
so I did.
I’ll tell you where I’m from,
but its way off the Grid.

I am,
and come from where;
music is every note,
and from,
the scores of laws,
that provide buoyancy,
to every boat.

From where;
the wind blows
a painter’s eye,
and a writer’s mind,
to cut through any
undertone or lie,
no matter how well
performed or designed.

From where;
I see and hear
inner speech
from the heart,
and not just what you
say or preach.
I take the whole,
never just a part.
Then I unfold it to you,
with a ribbon and bow,
every fraction of you,
captured, held then released,
in holy escrow.

I come from where;
the only thing there is,
is unquenchable desire.
It is my gift of enchantment
in your passion’s fire.

I come from there;
within every human soul’s
awakened imagination,
lies within,
the mysteries of causation,
and the source of all creation.

our path

like a child,
both innocent and wild,
she wandered into a dream
where she saw,
a deep, dark jungle.

Around the center
all of humanity stood,
each with machete in hand
and a focused command
that everyone intuitively

We must
make our own way
to the front and center,
cutting a swath
as we enter,
walk our own path
and however straight or crooked
it may look to be,
follow our unique identity,
composed of our attitudes,
rules, and all the things
we secretly accept
as true, in their totality.

in the heat of summer

My friend, I am going to tell you the story of my life, as you wish; and if it were only the story of my life I think I would not tell it; for what is one man that he should make much of his winters, even when they bend him like a heavy snow? – Black Elk

in the heat of the summer
how I long for the snow.
Rise in temperature’s number
and warm winds blow.

I must remember this,
when the snows do arrive.
That I longed for its kiss,
in the heat to revive.

For there is no summer,
without the winter’s snows.
Whether early or latecomer,
when the warm wind blows.

Growing wings

Growing wings

She awoke
one morning,
with an enchanted urge
to stretch up to the skies.
She closed her eyes,
reached to the heavens
and let out her inner battle cries
calling out
all the ideals she cherishes,
and the practices she applies,
as well as
those she perishes,
when they arise.

That smile in her heart,
was her real work of art,
and upon this experience
she started noticing some things,
and before she
knew what was happening,
she was growing wings.

This path is mine

“This question is one that only a very old man asks. Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. They are paths going through the bush, or into the bush. In my own life I could say I have traversed long long paths, but I am not anywhere. Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.” – Carlos Castaneda

This path is mine

Upon waking,
she used to just stay in bed
for hours and hours,
but inflamed by a
passion’s magical powers,
an old blue watering can
closely kept,
beckoned her before
the morning began,
while all the world fastly slept.

Decreed by design
this path is mine,
filled with heart,
body and soul,
with thorns and thistles,
and every twisty-curvy part
that makes me whole.


if only for a little while,
I became a flower.
I shed my skin,
exposing rainbow-colored petals,
and experienced
nature’s transformative power.

Entwined and surrounded,
pushed and pulled towards the good,
my body reflected colors and shapes
in an unfolding mystery that can
only be, divinely understood.

I didn’t care that what was
happening to me, made no sense.
It mattered more the way I felt
and it only got more intense.

And it caused me to remember
a time that now I wanted to relive.
The pathway is clear, with nothing to fear,
just the godly-human need to forgive and give.

Now I’m found

No longer a seeker
for now, I am found.
I’m a feeler, I’m a thinker.
I make the world go round.

a secret

to know;
so, from her
inner deep,
she heard her
own voice speak;
“the secret is in,
that, I AM,
and ever-always,
have I been”.

a fierce inward gaze

Looking back
over the contents
of her memories,
through the passing days,
she fiercely fixed
her eyes,
in an inward gaze,
it was only then
did she realize,
its her future
she’s setting ablaze.

an orange-beige sky

The old shaman
was losing his connection
with the Great Mystery.
His medicine had become weak,
and he felt unworthy.
So he went on a walkabout,
and while stopping to rest,
he fell fast asleep.
Under an orange-beige sky,
he dreamed and questioned,
but there was no reply.

When he awoke,
sitting and looking at him,
was an orange-beige cat,
who climbed up on his head,
and just comfortably sat.

They could both feel
the interplay of their souls,
and having secured their roles,
a spiritual balance came back.

A young soul,
in an old shaman’s body,
befriended an old soul
in a young orange-beige cat,
whose partnership told the unlikely story,
of his magical powers return to glory,
when on his head he wore the cat as a hat.