Everything is empty. Everyone is empty. Everything is just gone.

The temples are cemeteries -and all the saints dying -and I’m just a pyre -an ash and embers filled -final birthday fire -for the dead and the burning.

Set me on fire, I don’t care, there’s nothing left inside. But nobody does -because nobody can -and its just not enough to keep me interested anymore -I burn everything I look at-and I just can’t stop….starting fires and instigating heat..

it’s a friction addiction I’m told.

I saw a bird in the tree looking for a mouse for dinner-but the ground was dry- and so the rodents were all gone-all eaten up one way or another -It’s not a harvest day here on my speck of earth. Nothing to kill, nothing to do…

I need more heat.

The weaving and threading of making something- a nest for wasps-or a way to stay warm- is also a loss.
I’m cold no matter how hot we burn.

The snow will start to fall soon and cover us all anyway.

There was no one inside and the lock was too rusty to open. So, yes, I’m sad that it’s all gone and everyone tried -but they’re dying now and the best days are behind us. The sun was setting without even a color.

How can I love you if you don’t get under the blankets?
How can I see you when it’s always so dark?

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s been blindfolded.

I walked around the Deity expecting to be blessed but I only heard the whistle of the wind dying down deeper in the valley.

“He doesn’t live here anymore” they said.

And so I walked over to the edge of the cliff and thought about a million things at once,

“Am I really a bird? Probably not.”

So I though about dying and the red thread He put around my neck on New Year’s Eve and I thought,

“That wouldn’t be bad at all. Maybe it doesn’t matter and I might as well fall.”

But then the ground shook a little- just loud enough for me to hear that deep underneath Her She’s about to explode, fire under the belly, hot nectar from the moon- boiling in the cauldron down below…

“but I thought nobody heard me?”
I said out loud to no one.

Absolutely no one.

And the weeds have been allowed to grow and the tattered flags were blowing, I was bluish cold despite the red heat rapture of Her Soul-stirring the pot-while She walks sadly barefoot upon the earth.

“There’s just nobody here anymore. What am I supposed to do? I’m just like my aunt, saving mangey dogs who don’t even love me- not love me-no, only love their food and their blankets”

I guess it doesn’t matter. What do they know?

Stupid worthless dogs.

“I’m just like the spring flower who grew up in a field all alone. Getting old Dying before anyone could pick Her in bloom – and put Her in water- and brighten your eyes -and bring love to your heart.”

No opportunity. No junction.


And I saw the paint chipping and I spun all the prayer wheels.

“I don’t really know if these prayers work. I wonder if anyone feels them?”

No rapture. No solace. Probably not.

And then the birds even started getting cold and the road was so dusty. I opened the car door and got inside. “It’s so quiet in the car, it’s just like temple”

No Gods. No Ecstasy. I expect nothing from you.

Nobody loves the smile in Her eyes. She’s just another woman with nowhere to go. Nobody
hears Her calling to the Furies. Where have you gone, dangerous lady of the night?


No curses. Its not nice.

No. Just sit and shred papers. All the notes in your head. All the lists and all the restrictions.
Because it looks like nobody will be here on time for dinner anyway.

It’s a ghost town out there where My Cowboy used to ride.

And I remember the horse that He rode.

(No you don’t. YES, I DO)

“Take me with you. Far away from here where the fire isn’t something I have to make myself. Where the Men are the blood that I wear.”

But no longer do I go into the shadow that brought you to me…

because she’s gone, over the edge of forever.

Naked and bright like a star with no rider.

My heart has a hole that I just can’t fill,
honestly, God pokes too hard.

Where I fell from Him, is where I bow to you.
In my own special way, down on my knees…

bruised and bleeding…

happily red.

and I learned to use to His weapon because He promised me love…

I mastered Him actually.

and I never listen unless I’m the one talking,
So that’s a problem of course…

just another kiss. just another mouth. just another touch of His mane against my heart.

wild stallion in the open field
you saw the only flower.

so I’m getting on,
don’t fight me.

Sharada Devi

12 thoughts on “HAPPILY RED”

  1. Far far away, a long time ago, she wept tears of crystal light. She put the kiss in this temple. SHE LIGHTS THE LIGHT. What a long winding road it was up the mountain into the valley. Her time was long ago when we were here NOW. Which is where she always IS.
    Now she counts skulls and puts them on a string, she looks but cannot feel the real zeal it takes to find the lost note. The tone of place like iron gate opening into a pure land that nobody visits to vibe it up. So we know who she is. magic show of form by the light in her eyes. Ah she is sound current flowing up my spine.
    Old Man, bhagavan das.

    1. What a blessing it is for us all to have this space in which to commune.
      And strive to be one with THE ONE and ALL together.
      How glorious and karmically fortuitous that the two of you have found each other once again.
      After years of trials and tribulation.
      After lifetimes of weakness and strengths.
      Failures, falls, frustrations and intrepid flings into fires unflinching.
      The counting of coups and attainment of all things true.
      What a fine refinement to have come to this time of sacred communion and common aspiration.
      With eyes always on the eternal prize.
      She that instills in us the burning ember of yearning.
      An endless calling towards the unknowable and still yet insatiably unquenched endeavor to find that place of the dark / light everlasting light of grace and stillness.
      May we always be blessed in truth, love and the pure Mother Light

      1. All this innuendo towards rings of fire and and burning it all down
        Now the area just 10 minutes north of me is in flames
        you can’t step outside without getting an eyeful of ash
        The sky is the color of amber and carnelian
        Interestingly enough, it has been named the “Sherpa” fire…

  2. The Dance is rich…

    We all need the friction, or we would never taste the juice.
    The juice is God. Praise be to the friction for yielding our God juice.
    Embedded mutation ritual of the highest order..
    Journey to light space. Journey to the omniverse of love. Our box top to heaven.
    Gifts at the bottom of the cereal box. If you drink enough juice you’ll go mad..

    Crazy with love.
    I have been reading the gospel of Thomas and yeshua is so out of this world, I can’t be godless .. I’m poor so you come to me. Thank you yeshua!
    Yeshua was so firey as a child.. I feel so much closer to God after reading about him in his youth.
    All those times I died in his arms watching her try to save me when it was you who raised me up and sent me back to finish.
    He knows and I cry like the baby I am.
    Mom didn’t know what she was doing and I forgive her.
    The croupiers cards are shuffled and are about to be dealt.

    The demons are attacking me more than once a day. Today 3 times. I know in my heart it’s because I can finally hear and feel and taste. I love you demons you are my teachers I will be gods disciple on Mother Earth. Train me to be your guardian, a steward, I’ll do anything – intergalactic PR?

    Mold me up with clay from your pond and clap your hands – I will fly away home.

    Happy birthday
    Smoke em if you got um

    All of my love always both of you

    1. You are sweet and sincere. Such a long
      way you’ve come -only to love God more
      and practice dying even harder.
      That’s all I know about you-
      That, and the great drums!

  3. I feel like a lot of this is like a type of spiritual one upsmanship game you are playing with yourself or with us
    Constantly trying to outwit or outsmart the mind using…
    Your mind
    It’s an endless game
    Going around in circles
    Endless circles
    What comes next?
    When the mind is all circled out?
    Returning to the heart
    Returning home


    What do you think?

    1. Yes John, it’s a game.
      It’s people like you that make it SO HARD
      to be me.
      “home to the heart. No more circles.”
      I wish I could have thought of that.
      It’s always you John, calling me out…
      And I LOVE IT⚡️⚡️⚡️

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *