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’m already there, in that place I’ve envisioned, sipping tea
whilst waiting restfully for my restless self to arrive.

Thank you, Sammi! That was fun!

The Second Coming

I came to the wide and open space of darkness
Which for a millennia I had feared
Touted as a place of death and destruction
Very few ever even neared
And it’s true I died there in that place
So many ways in which my ego seared
A hot and burnin hell consumed my creation
‘Till underneath the god in Me appeared
For all beliefs that hid Me from this Knowing
That dusty casement of illusion disappeared
And shining there in all My reigning glory
I saw that All was One to be revered

Dry Bones

It was in the Word that our demise was found
You were skill-less in your rant
Yet calculating in your approach
Regurgitated flittering bits of hate
Heralding in the empty love
You would lastly profess
It was in the swelling rage
That vision finally found Me
We had always been a dead thing
And I Am done reviving those dry bones

You have to touch the wound

Hurt them in the places that they hide.

All you have to do is see it.
See it and the proper words will flow.
See it and show them that it’s there.
See it and take away the shame.
All you have to do is see it.

But then – You have to touch the wound.