A-M

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O farmer! Plant your seeds in a heap.

But don’t wait the night hoping to reap.

Things grow even when you sleep,

So why worry or be eager to weep?

You have the power to feed humanity.

Don’t lose your precious sanity,

Nor get swept by life’s vanities.

You are the seed of none else but divinity.

A day will come when you forget the planting,

And by the harvest, see something enchanting.

For though you saw growth out in the field.

The real growth was inside—the best of yields.

Slowly, but surely,  

          the Light  

                    appears,

Washing away old wounds,  

          tearing down the dusty curtains,  

                    behind which  

                    a dear friend once lived,  

          illuminating every dark corner  

                    of my heart,

til all I see is light. 

          All I am is light. 

The horses trot, the trumpets blast.

Here, at the gates of Heaven at last!

Names read aloud atop a hill.

Hearts swooning at the anxious thrill.

For a sight, a mere sight, of the Holy One!

The reward long sought in life’s conclusion.

Eyes leave shattered homes in frantic search

of the One who gave meaning to death and birth.

But they all return broken to the same place

from where they left, their image defaced.

God was always here, inside us all,

but we fell searching, lost in free fall.

All it takes are closed eyes and open heart

for the gates to open and the Soul to part.

Open your mouth

and swallow this torch.

Quit reaching for water,

when it’s fire you need to bathe in.

Burn everything you once knew.

Burn even your self.

Light this fire inside you,

and let your shadows dance around it.

Feel the flames lick your Soul,

and release you from your own grasp.

Let the moths surround you,

and be taken by the Source.

Reduce yourself to dust,

and know how it feels to start from scratch.

Roll around your ashes,

and welcome them with joy.

No phoenix will rise here.

No symphony will play.

But your true self will emerge.

And all else will melt away.

To suffer is to heal.

To burn is to rinse.

Why resist the undying embers,

when you can be free.

Dance with these flames.

Let them steal you in the night.

For love is born in passion.

In ecstasy, you are alive.

Drink from your soul,

and feel the cardamom swirl inside you,

dancing in circles toward the moon,

with no intent of leaving soon.

Upon your lips the burn will surely sting,

only to melt after and make your heart sing.

How could something be so bitter and sweet?

Such is the sacrifice and reward of this retreat.

But don’t waste your time chasing the steam that eludes you.

Behold the creations, the Creator that produced you.

Travel beneath the clouds and submerge into this lake.

Only there will you find yourself truly awake.

A reflection, a smile is all you think you see.

But your third eye sees more, if you can just believe.

For nothing can truly hold what you have in store,

not a cup, not an ocean, not anything more!

So let the cup shatter, let the pieces spill around you.

Only when you are broken can the one peace surround you.

For just as leaves turn green after becoming red,

you can only begin healing once you have bled.

Listen closely and hear the bells ringing in the distance.

It’s time to let go of the pieces and leave this instance.

Drink all you can, but know that it will never go away.

Who you are inside, your essence, is always here to stay.

The house that is full

          always welcomes

the hand of thieves.

They pillage and plunder

what you so dearly admire—

          why bother putting on a lock anymore?

Only when the four walls

          see nothing but themselves

can you ever declare peace and serenity.

For all that is gathered in desire

          will surely be consumed by Love’s fire.

How is it that every time I think of you

the pen meets the parchment and splits into two.

Ink stains cover my fingers in the deepest black,

but I need no words, just my dear beloved back.

How is it that every time I think of you,

my heart surrenders and reveals its hue.

To say this is love is the greatest lie.

Not even love’s endless stairway can reach this sky.

How is that every time I think of you,

I learn the real meaning of the sacred truth.

Not found in books, voices or even minds,

but only in the warm embrace of the holy Divine.

How is that every time I think of you,

I walk on clouds and kiss the moon.

Not even the stars can tell me the time,

Only that I am yours and you are mine.

How is it that every time I think of you,

the world stops moving without a clue.

Each heartbeat fills my throat with the deepest thud,

but I rise from the shallows, like a lotus in the mud.

How is that every time I think of you,

“You” and “I” melt together and become anew,

reminding me that there is only One.

In this game of life, “I” have lost and “we” have won.

How is it that every time I think of you,

I question everything, even myself too.

Though my heart may never know this song’s answer,

let it remain a mystery, and me the dancer.

Listen to these silent footsteps,

paving a path inside your heart.

To where they go, no one ever knows,

but the journey is worth the start.

In the beginning, they travel light like angels,

filled with joy and without a worry.

But as life passes on, they become slow and heavy,

the world’s suffering hits them in a flurry.

Hope slips through their master’s fingers,

like waterdrops craving an escape.

But trudge they must, no matter what the cost,

‘til their sandals are in sheer scrapes.

Few see the sacrifice they give

to guide us on our journey home.

But stumble over thorns they surely will

to end our life’s aimless roam.

Yet we insist on running far,

content to be anywhere but here.

My, what a pain it must truly be

to stay still and face our fears.

Yet if we only knew that fear is a friend,

cloaked in garments dark as ash.

And hidden beneath its endless layers

lies a treasure we forgot we stashed.

For just as the bee swarms around a rose

before disappearing into its bud,

the sweet nectar we’ve always been seeking

lives closer to us than our own blood.

So, give up your tattered sandals

that tear the earth beneath you.

Let go of the worries that haunt you,

not even they can release you.

One only makes progress in life

with each kiss they give this ground.

The music we’ve all been dying to hear

only plays in the absence of sound.

In the end, trust that these footsteps

will take you where you need to go.

Close your eyes, follow their trail,

and no longer will you live in woe.

Of all the things that give me pleasure

None move me more than this hidden treasure:

Remembrance of You, my Love, my Friend.

In Heaven with You, my Love, my Friend.

Pages turned without a pause

faster than ever, begrudging the cause.

Their master’s whip beat louder in turns,

But voiceless were they to point the burns.

They whispered in unison: “can’t he see?

He hurries through life, but is never free

Why bother even living this life at all,

when all is a blur, and you can’t recall?”

So it went till the cover was bare.

The mortal end here, ready to ensnare.

For though he tried to flip the book over,

his grave cracked a smile, all in clover.

Pages turned without a pause

faster than ever, begrudging the cause.

Their master’s whip beat louder in turns,

But voiceless were they to point the burns.

They whispered in unison: “can’t he see?

He hurries through life, but is never free

Why bother even living this life at all,

when all is a blur, and you can’t recall?”

So it went till the cover was bare.

The mortal end here, ready to ensnare.

For though he tried to flip the book over,

his grave cracked a smile, all in clover.

Pages turned without a pause

faster than ever, begrudging the cause.

Their master’s whip beat louder in turns,

But voiceless were they to point the burns.

They whispered in unison: “can’t he see?

He hurries through life, but is never free

Why bother even living this life at all,

when all is a blur, and you can’t recall?”

So it went till the cover was bare.

The mortal end here, ready to ensnare.

For though he tried to flip the book over,

his grave cracked a smile, all in clover.

Hear me roar,

but don’t mistake it for pride.

I give this jungle my everything,

so the cubs of tomorrow don’t cry.

Each day I set to hunt,

but not all hunts are successful.

Yet cuts and bruises I gladly take

to give those in need a mouthful.

Don’t be fooled by my sharp teeth,

long claws and flowing mane.

I am just like you in all that matters.

We are all one and the same.

But if you could see what goes on

beyond the glaring lights of your jeep,

you might see the mountains I’ve climbed

and know that no sacrifice is too steep.

Though king of the jungle am I,

I live to serve every day

to inspire those who feel helpless,

to give them a reason to play.

So, look into my weary eyes,

and see the blood and tears I’ve spilled,

the struggles I make behind closed doors,

so their dreams can be fulfilled.

I hide not in my pride.

I run from no one.

I am a lion in the sky,

and I will never be broken.