The Rising

Each mote must float within its space
And every like to each its own must face
And You so being created as such
If longing and desiring is much
Must know and understand in detail
To stay the same yet want will surely fail
There must always be a growing and a reaching
For the risings only garnered by the breaching
Yet the soul that tethers itself to any idol
Will find itself a prisoner of that wile
For the expanding path will always lead away
From those whose choice in stagnate waters stay
But You who’ve learned to think in all directions
Will find the power that masters ALL reflections

Birth

All truth lays hidden in your mind
Be it bad or be it good – it is there
Conceiving itself as a seedling, forming
Until birth into the very existence of your life
And you perceiving it – judge it –
The very thing that you made
Without realizing that it was you
Who formed and created it
And I have noticed that most
Take credit for all they deem as good
But instead place blame for all they deem as bad
And in doing so – give all their power away

She spoke no English – I, no Russian.
But we sat in silent smiles,
drinking tea – the years making us friends.
One day, dropping the kids at school,
“it’s froggy out,” she said. I pause, then nod,
“Yes my friend, it is froggy out.”

“Gift certifercate,” she said.
What? I asked. “I need a gift
certifercate.” Standing beside me
in his unknowingness, he corrected her.
Me quickly jabbing him in the side, interjecting,
“Right my friend, gift certifercate.”

Memories of friends long moved on –
The blending of lives and loves, of cultures –
Words melding with new meaning –
Little gems that glow and glint my mind –
Endearing the past to my present with joy –
By way of froggy days and gift certifercates.

So come! Come with me my love, and sit
awhile more – let us remember those
small treasures, those flawless imperfections
that entangle us so completely in our humanism.
Let us muse a little longer of days past
As we linger here in your favorite anacondriack chair!