N - Z

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I am the nomad with no name,

searching for ages, but all in vain,

wandering through life’s scorching desert,

wasting precious time and all my effort.

Strength, looks, and passion have all abandoned me,

but once I was a boy who dreamed to be free,

to leave my parents’ nest and fly into the light,

carried by the wind and drifting like a kite.

I indulged in every wine, food, and pleasure at hand,

never minding the hourglass losing its sand,

for I lived like a king in all his splendor,

amassing more riches than my dreams could render,

Skipping down paved roads and cobblestones,

laughing with madness at all that I had owned.

I basked in shining lights and sweet delights.

The world was my oyster, all in a night.

But when the sun rose to my final chapter,

I soon realized the impending disaster.

Everything I gained I lost in a flash,

even possessions I cherished, gone in a dash.

The more I sought, the more I repelled.

Life was closing in, and I felt expelled.

How could something so great be over so soon?

Just begun I had, when the sun replaced the moon.

Now my days are spent crawling these dunes,

flailing this hourglass toward my tomb.

Oh, how I wish I could break this glass!

And fill it with more sand to escape the impasse.

But alas I’m too weak to even flip it on its head.

One move, I fear, would render me dead.

Yet in my final breaths let me share my story.

Chase neither wealth, pleasure, or even glory.

For none serve you in this land of mirage.

They are the greatest illusions, an empty collage.

Your real oasis is inside, and has always been.

Leave behind the nomadic life and settle within. 

Tend to your garden with love,  

for what you plant in joy  

reaches up to kiss the Sun’s rays.

Never mind the naysayers.  

They cover dirt with dirt,  

hoping to grow something out of nothing.

Your passion is a love song  

only the stars and moon can dance to.  

For in the veil of night  

only you see what others can’t,  

what bottled up dreams  

yearn to burst  

and paint the sky  

with wild colors.

In the world of gain,  

many have forgotten this simple truth:

          Your passion is a gift—  

          a well for others to drink from,  

          not for you to drown in.

Because what you seek  

has already been given to you in spades.

Joy’s infinite offspring  

building castles in your heart.  

A purpose, a meaning, an expression.  

The dove realizing it has wings  

taking flight.

This is what it means to have passion,  

and from it, 

delight.

Behind the veil of longing, I lean to gaze

hoping to find you soon in this lovers’ maze

where souls collide for days to reunite,

searching each nook and corner with no respite.

“Where is the Beloved?” my heart likes to ask,

eager to remove love’s two-sided mask.

Although paper thin does one find this divide,

no steed or vessel can prevent my demise.

Night and day have long left this tavern,

leaving me all alone in my mind’s cavern.

What else is there for me to possibly drink

when there is no room left for my heart to sink?

It pours with bliss into any cup nearby,

but empty it becomes with each passing sigh.

If I could just feel the rays of your sunlight,

I would know the meaning of endless delight.

What is this enchantment you have cast on me?

When despite this darkness, I want to believe

that the day will come when we’re reunited

in the best of meetings, my dear Beloved.

You set me free, like an archer with arrows,

but even with wings, I’m a voiceless sparrow.

What good is it to fly if you cannot love?

Come quickly now and tear the wings of this dove

To release this message etched into my core,

a message of true love kept behind this door.

But no longer can I hold what’s deep within.

Let this love flow freely and lift me again.

For I now let go these chains of desire,

and embrace the burns of this blazing fire

that has razed all forms of seeking and wanting

to leave in its place, true love’s only offspring.

Had I just felt your touch, I would know the way,

avoiding the heartache and all other pain.

But perhaps this suffering is fair and just

to know union as it is and feel enough.

How dumb am I to learn you had never left?

It is I who was lost, of all good bereft.

Although it searched behind veils to find you near, 

my sight has finally come to see you here.

This stairway we climb,

where does it ultimately go?

For all that we strive for,

you would think we would know.

All of life‘s ‘answers'

lay in the palm of our hand.

But we walk with no purpose,

our heads trapped in the sand.

What is pain, 

but the trusted messenger of hope?

Sirens for the alert,

a cure to help us cope.

Forget escaping these rails,

giving your body won’t set you free.

Nor can descending lower,

the past is nothing but history.

The only hope is to continue

and see these stairs as a wheel.

For us to break this cycle,

we must let go of every fear. 

And rest on the steps to learn

why we truly toil and strive,

when all this time we’re the face of Love,

and yet we’ve listened to our mind lie.

The happiness you seek

has been with you from the first step.

How long will you keep climbing though?

The time lost might be your regret.

Take this soap and wash your skin

of all your deeds and all your sins.

Neither will help you in this world,

nor even well after if they could.

They cover your eyes from the start,

draining each breath from your heart,

'til the only face the mirror shows

is a tale of deep and hidden throes.

Seek the right way and you’ll always drown,

no matter if you’re the pauper or the crown.

All of life’s roads converge one day.

Lost are simply those attached to their way.

To make into two what is always one,

only leads to suffering with no solution.

This simple truth can take a lifetime to learn,

but the end starts somewhere, now’s your turn.

If you could only submerge into this bath,

and free your Soul from its human trap,

you’ll see pounds of dirt sink deep below,

and rise instead is the truth few know.

So let the water engulf your very head,

and make sure to die before you’re dead.

For in this bath, things are truly bare.

Your real self is here and everywhere.

When you see my body

float down this river,

          leave it.

Don’t go jumping in.

          You might drown

by the weight of your grief.

I am smiling,

but you can’t see.

          Your eyes know only loss.

Not hearing the calm murmur

          carrying me away,

You resist.

For you love

the idea of me,

          but not my Essence.

Yet if you wade

into this water,

you’ll learn the river cares not for ideas.

It simply moves

the moving and unmoving

          until all reach the Final Ocean.

Even the flowers

that grow from it

          surrender to its flow.

Even the rocks

that live in it

give freely their bodies.

Who am I then

to fight the battle

that has already been fought?

Lay down your sword.

          You will not cut this river

with your blade.

Only yourself,

with cuts

          that never heal.

For the fatal wound

is not of the flesh

          but of the mind.

To see such sadness

          and not recognize

the mirror image of happiness.

Watch me float away,

but know that I stand

where You stand.

One day you will float too,

and instead of tears

          You’ll only hear the river’s babble.

In my deep sleep,

          my soul awoke me

one cold night.

I stood up

and the shawl of ravens

          dispersed

in a thousand directions,

leaving me

          frozen and naked.

I peered into the darkness,

          searching

for the Voice

that stirred my

endless slumber.

But all I could hear

was the distant

cackle of birds

and feathers flapping

          into oblivion.

I am wide awake,

but the scenes of tomorrow

haunt my mind all day.

Gunshots and air raids

pour fresh from the sky’s bottle,

but I can’t escape.

The screech of sirens

can’t drown the screams of soldiers

and shatters my ears.

The blood of comrades

can grow a field of flowers.

Born is my worst fear.

This is a lost war

fought only in the mind’s eye,

but costing all life.

Hate followed by greed,

envy, desire and pride

outweigh other strifes.

For there is no cure

to this battle fought with thoughts.

Best to surrender.

What do we strive for?

What is to gain when

we’re all dismembered?

I await the day

when my teary eyes reflect

serene hills of green.

And take me away

from this war within, perhaps

this was all a dream.

There is this world where only light exists,

where only waves surrender,

where only one finds true bliss.

Deeper you go, ‘til depth means nothing.

What you seek is what you are, 

and that is something.

Oceans upon oceans you love to travel,

not realizing the greatest mystery’s inside,

waiting to be unraveled.

But if you do yearn to make this shift,

step into this world now,

and rise like mist.

Others have found their way  

crawling through this darkness.

But a part of you  

still feels frozen, 

lost in the serpent’s belly.

Light flickers  

along the edge, 

but never eager  

to jump into  

the abyss you are in.

It is waiting, you see.  

It is waiting for you  

          to be free. 

To move and be moved  

by foot, wheel, or will alone.

Why do you think it carved  

this hidden road  

          into the sea?

You were wrapped  

in its white cloak  

but chose  

          to be bare.

Now choose again. 

Choose to see what  

you didn’t see before.

A flash of light, waiting  

to drench you with Love  

          once more.