The old building falls, the lizard slithers through it, I sit watching, wondering what time sunrise is,
a pink hue approaches, an animal sleeps on my lap, it’s been dark all night, I feel life in my midst enough to write about morning, to touch the blue cloud, silver inside me, a desert snake hisses goodnight, and for the last time the black hill rolls back and a new dawn seeps through the rip in the world above me, gold covers my face and the animal yawns, looking up into my ancient eyes that could know, now is the dying and now is the birth, now is the way we are born from night’s secret ashes. I have never slept, only dreamed of you leaving, together we rise from this floor, as bones of a God.
Alone, another day. I look away, forgotten. I walk down the hallway, light footed. My mouth opens and closes. My eyes never move from your face. I open windows and close many doors. This house collapsed ages ago. Here we live together haunting the silence.
Here we take the shadow’s from themselves. I call this love, my oasis in the dry death of night. I hear this love, my rain over the sands of stone. We never moved from the bodies we covered, we only turned toward the bosom of dawn.
The little death, the born again stream of new hope. The life in these embers. I bring you my pain. Lift up your veil. I am inside suffocating the flame. A billow of smoke rises in memory of the fusion. Put me back inside where the dark things grow into light. Towards the east, where I bent and knew it was then that you’d gone. Into another world sanctuary. A time before this place was built. A star resting on another axis. A head with no hair. A woman inside me. A helix of rage so righteous it stings. Scorpion on fire, my love is the winged and invisible, inevitable result of your becoming like me. Inside the old building a shadow mounts a dark creature. I look the other way burning and hairless. Big death, I am the one leaving not you. This time.
Peach colored stain, a rose made of skin. I am without any thorn or seed, anymore. A white takes over. The blank of a flash. The blink of two eyes losing each other. I was there, I really was.
And as the sun rose I realized that none of this matters. What matters is morning least of all. What I know is what caused you to be mine and mine alone. A heavy that hovers just outside my heart. An inhale that never leaves. A beat of the earth beneath where I sit. A whisper from the depths of my soul. Don’t go yet. But I will remain. But death has no hand but mine. But she’s a shadow. But morning is here. But I love you. But we are not the clouds that we watch or become. My little home, my broken place. I’m here as always with you in my vision.
Gold has entered my eyes. Blinded I find the precious entry. Waves of a quiet rumbling…and so I rise and float into the secret death defying solar ocean.
(No one ever saw who burned or who drowned in this summer’s collapse.)
Sharada Devi
I feel that. A heaviness that suffocates. It is pain that holds on. It is real, this fusion, that happened, Bright as you see.
This summer’s collapse, as if it could have been any other way… the torrent of water that was feared, is the relief of the season. Let me go and I flow, you are away- a way, as the morning fades…and I remain…smolder should be my name. Until I come back with you- free from myself. But that drumbeat you speak of… that is love happening. Terrible love- can’t take back this happening. Dead rose goes on like water seeping, after the rain. We return.
We return before the rain too…
I think.
The monsoon rains came and flooded with murky waters
While wildfires burned the desert sands
Into clear glass reflections
The bright shining light projects
Shadows of smoke from charcoal ashes
All this mining just to find
Black diamonds
Shaken to the core with
Explosive eruptions of emotion
A monarch butterfly, a flying finch,
A stag deer, all run into my vehicle
A direct message from spirit
This hand upon my chest
A wide open doorway
A polished mirror
The blooming lotus
In the mud from the dust of my heart
This broom and pan isn’t enough
Get a shovel to dig deeper
How far will you go for healing?
The never ending purification
I am sorry
Please forgive me
Thank you
I love you
Beautiful writing.
Thank you my pure hearted friend!
☀️
I used to write more, especially songs. Music flows so easily, but words are more challenging for me. You always have a way with words.
Thank you my friend. ✨💫
Shadows lurk in the dark. We don’t see them, but they are there. Only to wait til a sunlit morning…rising up in an in that is our out. That is not truth. Only within are we to ever know that which we thought once was. No, we are not here, but rather, we were. Yes, it’s kind of an inside out way of being, if at all. Not even a blink in the eye of time, that would be too much. Much less, we wait for something that will be passed us the moment it becomes the future. Try not to think …it’s impossible, or, is it not? I can’t ask the questions any longer. For all that I am, I am not. And all that I am not, I am. That which is, is not. No more, no less. I am Death. I am the beginning at the end. At the end with no shadow that lurks in the dark. I am home. You are welcome.
Thanks! I’ll be there soon ❤️
thank you for holding true to your soul, and your deep love and heart. May you be blessed and supported in all ways that you need.
Happy to hear from you Uma🌹
💫
silver is quick.
gold slips neatly
beneath the hidden treachery of it’s own weight and worth.
ashes to ashes
the once in flames deified skeletal remains,
now burnt to cinders
haphazardly shaped as a chaotic pile of memories
certain to be washed away by an ancient melancholic tear drop
Is water to blame or was fire the culprit in this destined demise
that harbored no eyes to witness or behold the wake of what was,
what now is, what will be…
impending last traces of warm summer magic slide past my grasp
Fragile wings risk the doom of a pulverized undoing
dust to dust of the heart, subtle avatar envoy
“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”
in the realm of secret order,
could the killing of a sacred deer, sacrificed on an altar of unwitting denial
prove to be the final descent into irreversible oblivion
Are the stars the limit?
✨
a poet by ❤️
fire and water
softening
sharp edges
and rubbing
ancient boulders
into powder
this rocky grit settles
thickly
in opened
hand palm
then winds came
with a fierce howl
and blew
dusty ash away
and the dust storm
roared as
dirt covered
eyes,
nose
and so on …
had to go into hiding
and tend to whatever
this is …
this strange land
of abrasions and sanding down
comings and goings
when you speak this way
it’s the only real thing going on
as you watch fools continue collecting
golden flakes grasping for middle
world half-truths
hoping it will pay off some day
only to be led by the brass ring lie.
the heart break — this ache
for what should have been —
the longing of what will be
the suffering and the joy that invites
the veiled dance ready to embrace
the heat or cold – it feels the same fire or ice
that color you speak of
the silence that remains
in the quiet white where
the undiscovered lies in wait
like the gentle scent
of a tender
moon flower –
bright and open
in beckoning moon light
remaining as
a forgotten song
sung from the
first heat and freeze now mingling
and forming as wet ashes
creating mud ponds
of transmuted muck
and the
haunted suffering of
the noisy middle
world ignoring
the dusty spell never
finding but always seeking
in the shadows
treasures buried
deep
in our hearts
that live
by the light of the moon
yet grow irritated by the
moon light that floods
bedroom windows
as shadows come to light
in a distant dreaming
of being the open
moon flower in the
quiet white
never forgetting
the star constellation
of your radiant face.
I thought you’d gone.
God bless Baltimore.
💙🦋💙
such a summer filled — little regret
as witnessing all this abounding chaos
is creativity taking hold and flipping the impermanence
reset button
💙🦋💙
that’s delusional. if you came out of hiding you’d see that. look at your life- and look what you just wrote. You can’t live through me- he’s your husband too.
I pray for you,
Whoever you are.
Look into your own ancient eyes,
Like vakra tunda, get into the dark nooks and crannies.
Like Atma-Bramha. The clearer you see yourself, the clearer you will see The Expanse
The rest is miscellaneous entertainment.
Did you mean vakratunda mahakaya
are you referring to lord Ganesha-
What exactly is “the Expanse” ??
seeing yourself as Brahma or not,
can be messy and dark…doesn’t
make it untrue- isn’t that right?
Shiva is different than Brahma in
that he has less interest in making things
work. Haha.
Thank you! This is the way☀️😎🐾