Flow of Things

Restive
 lying on the lap of the Wind
swirling with a rustle of paper leaves
rising and dipping like a kite unstrung
drifting whimsically like seeds of a dandelion,
a wish upon the heart
Boundless.

Spin a dance!
 within the current of the Wind.
Step blithely!
 into the flow of Things.

Oh, what a beautiful surrender!
What a beautiful surrender it is.

***




Lets you dream.


There is something about a blank canvas,
a blank paper, a lump of clay
far horizons
that draws you
lets you dream.

To focus and pour your entire being—
onto a dot, a letter,
a dimple on a clod of clay,
a swirl of a color,
a music note across the waters,
or a rising sculpture to the sky.
To spin stories that chart the stars and celestials
or twirl to the rhythm of the reeds.

To roam wide
and let flow
the well
deep within





Dance a ring!

These fields were meant to be walked
the tall stalks to be brushed against
the sighs of unfurling flowers caressed
the roaring winds deafening,
the peals of the stars tinkling into twilight gazed upon,
the drumbeats of rolling clouds to beat with,
the dance of the deep trees in creaky waves
erupting from the Heart
to be heard
by a listening ear.

All these beautiful notes gracing the air
Why not grace them with my full presence?
To clap in delight to their wondrous dance!
Better yet
hold their branches and dance a ring!

***



the Great Wall

We say fear is pervasive like cancer
slow and insidious
but love says give me only an instant
to burn through just the same
like wildfire
scorching through the shadow of Separation
casted by fear
lighting up brazier after brazier
along the Great Wall
ablaze in sun rising glory
not for a warning
but a call to arms
to carry the torches
of Gods and Goddesses
dressed in bones and skin
in shared humanity
to the heavens.





Flesh of Nature.

How long must we stay meek
under our withering gaze?
How long must we grind
under our iron fist?
How long must we burn at the stake
for the cries of our soul?
How long must we bleed
till we are satiated in the blood of those unborn?

Why have we come to the point of watching
children rain down from the skies?
Why does a savior call forth his valiant shield
only to smash it down
crunching the fingers clutching
an ember of hope?
Why have we torn apart these lands
looting and pillaging
in fear of lacking?

Oh, the world of laws and lines
of order and ownership
of indisputable authority
of separation and prejudice.

Who decreed these words set in stone?
Who put us on the pedestal
to dole out justice or judgement?
When it’s our vulnerable selves on trial.

Why must we need a book
to teach us to be human?
Why must goodness be in the form
of deeds and not from our inherent nature?
Are we so distrustful of our nature
that we must create our chains
never to be unlocked?

Oh, kinskins!
flesh of Nature
embrace as it has
the underworld of vermin and flesh eating worms
and burst forth Roses!
Marigolds! and Daisies!
Hoist your colors
from the dirt!

Oh, Mud Child of Earth!
There is a terrible price
 for our silence and meekness
for molding too long into the world of Order.
So wake up, wake up
sing true for the Earth that lost her voice,
beat your chest along with her upheaval,
Her cries and quakes!

Come forth, fellow Earth dwellers!
In this point of space and time
we are here together
only for a breath
in the grand scheme of time,
gazing at the same skies
the same stars
the same stories to be histories.

So sing a choir
with our rhythmic breathing
at one
here and now
be free in trust
and tread gently in wonderment.

The Golden Age
is always
Now.

***



A quiver of a cell.

If my eyes no longer see
ears go silent
tongue roll away numb,
scents frozen in its’ tracks
fingers and toes lay limp
caged within a body
like a tomb of flesh.
Only breathing
Breathing


My body fed on by each breath
will quiver
Quiver with everything I write.
With every pulse and surge of my blood
I will create
waves upon waves around me.

Just from a quiver
of a cell.

***





The maiden weeps.


There’s a maiden weeping tonight
alone in the dark
none see the tears
rolling down her cold cheeks
but the Moon,
pretending to hide behind the clouds
shining upon her tears
whispering,
‘My child dear,
Why do you cry?’
She shakes a sob
of fear
of hurt and hate
of loneliness, worthlessness
of sorrow in living.

The Moon dances into view
and plays shadows on her window sill
a story of how
she is the Queen
of a hidden world.

Where all that is tremble in joy
 for her very smile
for her voice.
How dearly she is loved
just as she does unbeknownst to her.

The maiden weeps
blinded by her tears
to the thick flow of love
shining down upon her crown.

A Queen
lost to her birthright.

***



A never-ending read.

To read
everything there is to read—
The swell of your cheeks
in a hidden smile.
Your words tumbling over my tongue
tasting more than you reveal.
The subtle movement of your brows.
What the hem of your dress whispers in your wake.

What a falling leaf
spinning dizzy unto the Earth says.
What the wind
laughing
playfully ruffling my hair carouses.
What the sunlight
breaking apart in the ripple of a lake squeals.
What the dragonfly
that whizzes and pauses a drift sees.
What the blushing night bride to the day groom sighs
as she creeps over to him for that long awaited kiss.
A fleeting moment so cherished.

Let me read you.
Read your landscape,
your wayward weathers.

Let me see
only You
And let it be
A never-ending read.

***




Sharing one piece by writer’s choice
for the dVerse Open link Night 293

a virtual pub for poets around the world
Hosted by Lisa.

Bed of thorns.


There is a bed of thorns
I leave around me.

With every misstep, misdeed
or misword,
every missed gesture
or missed word,
the bed of thorns
like sharp talons grow ever sharper
Thicker
gnarled brambles knotted,
twisted around me
staked into my skin
crucified in perpetual guilt
wishing to disappear..

How the knots would fall away
when there is
Nothing
to hold on to.











Intoxicated in warmth.


My eyes look for intimacy
a yearning for a soft touch
an answer to my eyes’ imploring gaze
searching for the warmth
beckoning
like a window lit in gold
against the night
curtains fluttering
..calling me
calling me..
towards an undying hearth
where I can be
intoxicated in warmth.

***


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