Fly to Heaven

I watched that last leaf as it took its final spin
She danced to the very end, that one
And I marveled at her glory, her now golden brilliance
She spent her youth in summer, dazzling in the sun
Playing with others who had joined her there in that tree
And when the wind beat upon them all
There was no sorrow found in the tumult
Instead they used what was sent, joining together
Creating a music of their own
And me, in the hammock listening to the Divine
It was the harmony of heaven sent down
It was for me that she danced on that limb
Being as grateful as I was, I couldn’t help but tear
Each season brings new joy, ushered in by a departure
Reaching, always reaching forward as it comes
The world is always making room for more
There is never a taking away, only an expansion – a growing
I can feel it – the world Loving me
As she takes away, she also gives
I ponder this as I watch my summer friend take her leave
It is a slow and dazzling descent –
Graceful, full of beauty – without remorse for the end
There is only a pure thankfulness emanating in this moment
And the earth feels it, and responds
The fierceness of the wind startles me, like a funnel of fury
She grabs hold and lifts, lifts, lifts!
And that final dance finds no end
As that fiery brilliance flies home to heaven.

Call Back Your Energy

You cannot shoot yourself from turmoil to peace
The best you can do is stand in the silence of neutrality
If you can stop yourself from perpetuating the negativity
And hold firm in that no space of quietude
After a while you will find yourself firmly grounded there
It is from that space that you can begin to aim at peace
From that place all things that have come before – dissolve
You will discover that you can manifest anything from there
But. Getting there requires a certain resolve and dedication
You must let all that has come before go
So you may gather the strength of Yourself –

~ Have you ever considered that you may very well be at this time, what the world has caused you to be? If you can become an empty vessel for long enough, you can recreate yourself anew in Your own image. Where the bible says, god created man in his own image – there is a misrepresentation of that happening in the world. You are a microcosm of God. The image of yourself is either being created by You, or, the world is creating it by all the belief systems you have become enslaved in (Not just religious systems. All systems of belief). Once you have established a centered space of emptiness and peace, the best questions to ask yourself as you recreate Yourself are:

What do I want? (If you have been giving and giving and giving, this one will take some time. Be patient with yourself and keep asking)

Do my beliefs serve my desires? (Do not become a servant to the beliefs of others)

Am I behaving in ways that are conducive to my desires?

What do I have to change about myself in order to get what I want?

If you focus on this with a determination to succeed, the universe will open up paths before you, and the opportunities to shine in the light of Your Own Light will appear. This takes work. You are worth it.

~ This Mere Dust

I am but a breath, a mere word spoken,
And soon forgotten.
Like the dust that blows easily –
In a soft wind it is scattered.
Who can know such a One?
Those whose lovely deceitful smiles hide
The false flattery of their mouths?
They say what they do not mean and
Their actions are far off from their words.
He has blinded their eyes and hardened and
Benumbed their callous hearts.
But who are they who have set me in derision?
Does the strength of their hand profit me?
These mere men – whose ripe age and vigor has perished.
Like a rabble brood: they jostle me and push away my feet
Casting up against me their ways of destruction.
Oh, How they break up and clutter my path!
Yet they have no helper – No power to trample this dust –
Who is He who has raised me from the dead?
Who has freed me from my burial wrappings?
There is no Rock like my God.
For He is the Lord of knowledge
And by Him actions are weighed.
How many times have I been filled with words;
Yet the Spirit within me constrains me?
You have saved me from the snare of the wicked.
You have made my ways a highway of pleasantness,
And all my paths a way of peace.
I have watched the ways of the wicked, like a deep
Darkness, they do not know over what they stumble.
They walk by the light of their self-made fires
And of the sparks that they have kindled for themselves.
Who is my adversary? Let him come near to me.
I will seek out those who contend with me,
But I shall not find them; they shall be as nothing.
Where is the talebearer and he who sows strife?
The whispers of such separates even close friends!
And where is the evildoer who gives heed to wicked lips;
And the liar who listens to mischievous tongue?
They fled the rebuke of the Lord like chaff before the wind.
Who is he who will condemn me? All these sinners,
And who among you will cast the first stone?
I have searched and poured over the scriptures diligently,
Yet the beauty of the words do not contain Life,
It is the giver of Life that produces the beauty of the words!
All these things taken together, shaken up, measured out
Have not equaled to the fullness of the Lord!
A man can receive nothing except as it is granted
To him from heaven – there is no other source.
But boundless is the gift God makes of His Spirit!
Thus, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven
Over one wicked person who repents than over Ninety-
Nine righteous persons who have no need of repentance.
Well let the trumpets blast in heaven!
For out of His fullness I have received one grace after
Another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing
And even favor upon favor and gift heaped upon gift!


~ This poem is 85% bible verse. Yet it is written against the institution of religion. It is a shaking fist (My shaking fist) against the religious hypocrites of this world. It is Me, entering the “den of thieves” and declaring this temple of God (My Being), can not be bought and sold for gain! Beware the snare of religion, “the kingdom of heaven is within you”.



I must find meaning
in this resting.
I was like a mossy rock
tossed wildly down a
grassy knoll.
Each turn, each bump
a defining glimpse sails by
as time whirls past
each second lost.
A sudden stop.
All motion ceased.
And here I sit,
finding little meaning
in this two dimensional view.
May some child come and pick me up,
and toss me boldly down some hill,
or in some river to be turned and rolled by the current.
One can hope.

~ There was a whirlwind of a time where I picked up everything I owned and moved to another state. Once that was accomplished, it was as though everything stopped, and for a time I didn’t know what to do with myself. I did not know then, that the child I was waiting for, was Me.


I have been witness to the image of myself
as given me like little gifts from others
In return my expression of their desires made manifest
This was the bargain we made and kept until
we could no longer be each other’s mirror
When with a crack then a shatter we lost each other

Love makes room for true Being
but few are aware of such selflessness

The Gift of Compassion

He was like a fish gasping for air
and the fear on his face was imprinted
in my skull with all the other loathings
that he created in me – his broken
skin pocked and red – he picked
incessantly, those clotted napkins dotted
the floor like wayward children set astray.
And oh wasn’t that what we became?
Did he not bring out in each of us some hidden
doom we did not want to face? And all these
years later, here we were, thrust against the grain
once again – but lo we did not run.
Eye to eye we faced the misery,
that brown eyed fish and me,
as he groaned to rise, and fall, and rise
I caught him and allowed him to lean on me
as he dragged himself across the room, pants
falling and trapping him there on the stair,
and me calling to angels lest he fall backward
upon me, pinning me beneath his frail, sickly
shit stained self. And this is how it was, the
beauty and frailty of the dance we shared.
This was not the father, daughter dance I’d envisioned.
He was my greatest lesson on compassion, and
perhaps that was the most powerful gift he could bestow.

~ My father was an alcoholic. This scenario was burned into my brain, along with many other horrors. This particular evening, I was helping him to bed in yet another drunken stupor. I often wonder what awful things occurred in his life that made him disappear nightly into the bottle? I honor him by facing my own demons, by embracing them in Love, thus removing their power to devour me. I Love you Dad. ❤


I had to leave my body
As it were
I was destroying it
With my mind
In the stillness of the cosmos
It’s vibration roared
Reminding me of its presence
This energy of Life
That reawakens the awareness
Of the One I Am
And heals All

~ Nothing can stand broken in the awareness of One

A Thing Worth Doing

I watched as the day rolled silently past.
It didn’t invoke a thought, or elicit a response.
It didn’t speak as it arrived, nor when it departed.
It simply rolled past my window as if it didn’t know me at all.

You see, it didn’t.

And outside, the world rolled with it.
I watched all the people marching in droves – like lemmings they went.
Not to be outdone, vehemently they chased after their successes.
And me behind the glass, having none of my own to claim.

All I ever wanted was to know real Love.
To paint in black and white the human frailties.
But the world does not stop its hungry pursuit for such triviality.
Not even the crashing glass or bloody shards could sway them.

You see, no one even noticed.

To grasp the human heart of stone with fleshy blood drenched hands!
Words of fire spreading; Awakening the weary souls to things unseen.
That which causes them to be Loved, and to Love.
Now that would be a thing worth doing!