Hungry for Life!

you know that feeling
when you wake up
some mornings,
with an empty mind
looking into
an empty sky
impossible to be contained
by a line of blue?
yes, that's how
I want to wake up
to every moment,
hungry
for life!

One Moment

we are here
but for a moment,
to feel alive,
in the faint flicker
of a firefly,
on a dark night,
and yet,
we stretch that one moment
for as long as we possibly can,
so drops grow into orbs,
circling the lost moon
feverishly,
on a cold dark night;
we fall and we rise,
we fight and we make love,
we rage and we preach,
all for that one moment
of life,
before we die.

Recycled Love

this moment
I find myself in,
holds the harvest
of yellow green summers
threshed out of their husks,
and a white field
of virgin snow
waiting
to be consummated
with gentle steps,
making their way
with and into
recycled love.

Everything is Quiet Here

everything is quiet here,
the sun's gone somewhere
for a sleepover,
clouds linger for one last peek,
window-shopping at a world
too busy to be sold into,
the waters are restful,
singing their own lullaby
into the growing night,
the birds are back in their perches
communing over the mundanity
of yet another fulfilling day;

everything is quiet here,
the doorbell's fallen silent
straining its ears to listen
to the breath of all things
animate and inanimate,
the phone lies in a corner,
undisturbed by the desire
to belong somewhere
falling back into the emptiness,
tiny ants scurry along
the safe edges of a wall,
risking their busyness
to feel one another;

everything is quiet here,
where happening melts
into being,
where I am something
that simply lays still
with the hushed air,
not wanting to be anything more;
perhaps that's how we feel
when we die,
when we feel we're a part
of everything's that's here,
in the quiet greatness,
simplicity and totality
of this one precious moment.

Listening, with Appa

and you held me
in your eyes,
in your breath,
against your skin,
always looking
for the soul
beyond the cloud,
listening
as if there was no one else,
nothing else
to be listened to,
when time and space
paused
around your steady gaze
rooted
in this one moment -
the only one we have,
threaded on the string
we call Life;
and I wonder now
when I think of you,
who will hold me
like you did
every single time?
perhaps you will,
when I listen
to the sound of your voice
resounding
in mine.

A Moment

poised,
      upon each
branching moment,
      is a dream,
a thought,
      a word,
a breath,
      and silence,
waiting
      to be born
and die....