The Gleaning

To those of us who walk by faith, not sight,
Amidst the watching souls, though doubting still,
We answer to the calling of the Light!

Their crippled wings do claim from most His flight.
Yet wiser hearts do follow perfect will,
To those of us who walk by faith, not sight.

While treasure sought for gain’s a weary plight,
The Truth is buried in that costly thrill,
We answer to the calling of the Light!

Our worlds so slowly spinning out of right,
This gleaning of the soul to He who’ll till
To those of us who walk by faith, not sight.

Self-made fires blaze in a blackened night!
He who devours, pleasures there — until,
We answer to the calling of the Light!

True passion is the wick He does ignite!
In our weakness, His strength He does reveal,
To those of us who walk by faith, not sight,
We answer to the calling of the Light!

Power to Create

I have manifested all sorts of energies
The entire spectrum have I crossed
Each step of my own choosing
Every lesson gleaned for the gain
In darkness I found sorrow and reaped compassion
It was there I learned to love myself unconditionally
In light there is joy abounding making charity easy
And I learned that giving was in actuality receiving
I danced in the energies, every one “good and bad”
And there found the power of my soul
I yielded gratitude to the darkness and sorrow became my friend
I bid it well and rode the light back to joy and found bliss
And I came away with a wisdom found only by experience
It was always me. Moving me. I have the power to decide.
Every thought creates a feeling that directs my next step.
I can believe beyond what I see and create magic in my future
Or I can create pain be seeing only what is and enforcing more of the same
I have the power to make worlds as I think them if I allow my emotions to believe them!
And you have the power to create in this same way – and you’re doing it every day.
So let me ask you to look around. What is it you are creating? Is it wanted?
If you take responsibility for what you see, you have the power to create differently.

The Agreement

Thousands of ME’s
From Infant to Old
Illusions of form that I chose
That I might traverse this place
All the way from Birth to Death
That I happily bequeathed
To Myself before coming
Let Me not forget that
I agreed to Love them All

Behind the Veil


My eyes are made to see the worlds things
My vision is made to see what lies beyond
I can conceive of it only in the well of my Being
When the mind and body are stilled
I move out of the illusion and into eternity
Where all that has been dreamed awaits Me
Where both heaven and hell are Mine for the taking

~ It’s the same for you, even though you are unaware.

The Song of the Sun

The sun found me hiding behind the window
It crept up and peaked in with its golden rays
Not even my closed eyelids could keep it out
With a smile I greeted it and it gave in return
The promise of warmth and a new day
Reminding me that it was mine to create
All energy is boundless – I Am Free
My spirit knows all too well and is singing
This – The Song of the Sun

Dragging my feet the whole way!

I came dragging my feet the whole way.
The end of the path felt contemptuous, like an angry death!
That is exactly what it was – the old me – refusing to die.
I had to let go, it would be the only Way.
I could stay here, at the end and die the slow death of life,
Or I could leap across the divide, to the tiny stone that lay before me.
I would totter there, I could see – space enough for barely one footing.
It was time to go and the only enemy to my leaving was my fear,
But I was never held slave to that for long.

P.S. Just so you know, in the end, I had to be pushed.

Healing Prayer

I see you, watching just beyond the shadow of my life,
holding anger like a shield. I feel your flickering doubt
despite the armor of pretense hidden in your charge.
It isn’t enough though, is it, to tame the flame of fear
and cause you strength that might draw you near to me?
I will hold no blame for words of destruction that
flitter your ear and cause such gnawing suspicion
to erode like rust the fortitude of our mettle.
I know all to well the power of words to create,
and to destroy. Those black magics need not be true
in order for them to change the illusions of life, and
no amount of religiosity can paint a halo where
horns be. If anyone has ears to hear, let them hear.
I have bound all my judgments to heavy stones
and have cast them far off from myself.
There is no bitterness that serves me, nor is
there one moment of my life hastily given over
to anything other than what delights me.
I have caused a healing to well up like a spring
of living water, and all who come will find the
rejoicing powers of Life therein. I will pour
out my blessing and anyone who partakes will
awaken to their own sovereignty, and know the
truth of divinity. That they too are as I Am.

The Body of One

I Am delighted within the Body of One
and everything I see is an amazement to me

All things imaginable are here, and I Am ablaze
with energy and revitalized by this infinite knowing

I can disappear within myself and Be as I Am
untethered by the appearances of this world

When I awaken from this other state of My Being
I have all the accessibilities of heaven at my disposal

Most will read my words and think what lovely sentiments
then quickly disappear back into their illusion of life, unaware

But if you can live from this place, drawing deeply
upon that which I’ve said, you will make your own Eden

(Mother and Daughter)

I saw her as a child, as her soul was
I don’t think she knew this – How could she
In her “golden years” and still burning brightly
The heavy sigh and eye rolls –
Weren’t they supposed to be mine?
Yet every time the camera flashed
There it was – and then the giggle

Yes, I saw her as a child

She had learned to come back to that
To her own shining essence
And that is when we played
Not like mother and daughter –
(Two worldly roles created for us)
But As two souls who remembered
What it was to Be Free

~ 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!

ALL FOR ONE WICKED SINNER – THIS MERE DUST!

~ 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”.