The Way

and I watch them go,
as I watch the waves
parting
from the stolid shore,
knowing that they leave
but not knowing
when they will return
in another form,
revealing the ground
that appears
for me to walk on now,
as I take the next step,
only the next one,
into the emptiness
of walking with myself,
alone.

In the Dark of the Night

in the dark of the night,
some people get away -
pinched skins
and powdered masks,
resting in the ashes
of long-burnt out sins;

in the dark of the night,
some people are spent
in the raging fire of what is,
stripped of their
insipid flamboyance,
without a fire escape;

in the dark of the night,
some people find
the signposts lost
in the glare of city lights,
guiding and marking
their long way home.

in the dark of the night,
is where I find
what I need to leave behind.

The Way to the Heart

I can see
the flame
flickering
dancing
seducing me
to leap
into the void
that separates
you and me.

But how can I leap,
how can I leave behind
a part of me
that's held me
in its own loving way?
That's built fortresses
and courtyards,
where thoughts
and beliefs
and dreams
can play freely
like little children
in the safety
of their home?

How can I leap
when I want to
teach myself -
that part of me,
to slow down
and dance
with Life,
for that is the way -
the way that I know
to that eternal flame,
that dancing heart?

The Way Home

I don't know
the way home.

But I know
that home is
where my heart is.

And so I go
where my heart takes me....
through the dirt,
and the stormy seas,
through the hills
and valleys so green,
through wild forests
and manicured gardens,
through dark tunnels
and sun-splashed mornings.

My heart -
she leads me,
she watches
my every step,
she holds me
as I stumble and tread,

She weaves
with utmost care,
the fabric of my life -
keeping me warm,
holding the light,
to show me the way.

I don't know
the way home.

But I know that
wherever I go,
and whatever I do,
I take
my home
along, with me.

Karma

we walk up the same mountain -
bound by the same
treacherous, unforgiving landscape,
in search of the same view
from the top of of the world;
one of us crosses the chasm
that we feared was our doom;
the other looks on
worried and doubting
if he will make it
to the other side;
we cannot holds hands
even if we want to;
we cannot guide the other
even if we try to;
we cannot ease the burden
of worry and self - doubt;
each will have
to make his own way up
to the top of the mountain
to earn the view -
and feel on top of the world.

Pods on an Old Tree

ripe, brown pods
hang heavy
from an old tree,
that watches them
with silent intent;
each an expression
of what is -
laden with emotions,
each pod is a reminder
that holds within,
a tiny seed
of endless possibilities;
holding each with love,
as it splits wide open
to release the seed -
that is the only way
the tree knows
to unlock its Self
and find its Bliss.