Unfinishable Towers
Here in
the desert I
may control the wind
by putting up a shelter
Alone
on a hill
with a medicine wheel.
Who is in?
The house
air. a bed. a sink. no
occupier I
have the courage to face
that reality. All projections
fade away though
they claw at each other
for sanity
There in no 'thing' - compassion.
How can it be different?
There is no 'thing' - love, beauty
a friend, intimate
as being is with itself
Stepping stones in a pond
I am fond of that image.
This expression of the Divine
Is. Why? Love!
The love that is. Between things.
not the love that isn't.
The puppeteer
manages the lives
of lovers, one
in each hand.
The lovers love
the puppeteer master
loves. All together
they are one
and the love that isn't -
is.
I take a screwdriver
to my brain - removing
the grotesque
skeletons of unfinishable towers
built on zero
foundation mounds of dirt
covering my true beauty
A painter paints a picture
A carver a sign
bolts engaged by the master craftsman.
I came to this world with everything
I'll ever need. Complete
ready and programed for love.
As did you. I imagine
sometimes I need a plane
to crash into my towers
no matter how much I babel
on about pain and shame
and insult. But I...
will not build new towers.
My ground
zero clean
up crew will excavate,
plant trees and return
The Earth to her native born.
There,
I will dwell.
There,
I dwell!
Shake a tree
and leaves
fall, shake a person
layers of fat
and plaque
will fade
away. Some mourn
in the autumn
though most appreciate
the beauty of this necessary death.
And in the heart of winter,
the sun is born again. A new
life and a new year to make everything
simple again.
What genius
in the world around me!
the desert I
may control the wind
by putting up a shelter
Alone
on a hill
with a medicine wheel.
Who is in?
The house
air. a bed. a sink. no
occupier I
have the courage to face
that reality. All projections
fade away though
they claw at each other
for sanity
There in no 'thing' - compassion.
How can it be different?
There is no 'thing' - love, beauty
a friend, intimate
as being is with itself
Stepping stones in a pond
I am fond of that image.
This expression of the Divine
Is. Why? Love!
The love that is. Between things.
not the love that isn't.
The puppeteer
manages the lives
of lovers, one
in each hand.
The lovers love
the puppeteer master
loves. All together
they are one
and the love that isn't -
is.
I take a screwdriver
to my brain - removing
the grotesque
skeletons of unfinishable towers
built on zero
foundation mounds of dirt
covering my true beauty
A painter paints a picture
A carver a sign
bolts engaged by the master craftsman.
I came to this world with everything
I'll ever need. Complete
ready and programed for love.
As did you. I imagine
sometimes I need a plane
to crash into my towers
no matter how much I babel
on about pain and shame
and insult. But I...
will not build new towers.
My ground
zero clean
up crew will excavate,
plant trees and return
The Earth to her native born.
There,
I will dwell.
There,
I dwell!
Shake a tree
and leaves
fall, shake a person
layers of fat
and plaque
will fade
away. Some mourn
in the autumn
though most appreciate
the beauty of this necessary death.
And in the heart of winter,
the sun is born again. A new
life and a new year to make everything
simple again.
What genius
in the world around me!
beautiful! love the rebirth theme
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Thanks (:
We Scorpios do love The Theme.
(Forgive the caps).
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This feels new.. A new rebirth, for your poetry and for your self.
Love it.
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Yes! New is making me happy! ;>
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