The Wishing Well

What is a wish
but a wish for something else
For what could have been
might have been
if only...

For the dark side of life
to not show its face
or to unravel like a dream
For joys lost
to be found
or what's found
to be lost

For the nonexistent
the lofty, the cure.

What is a wish
but a space for us to enter
to look it in the eye
to delve into the source
where wishes come from
and find that golden coin
buried inside
glistening in the silence

waiting for us to listen.

Skin Deep

Sunrise in the mountain stream
flowing by
as life does

every second
counts
every road not taken
lost
every sight unseen
a fantasy

yesterday's nightmare
a dream

and you move on
searching
seeking higher ground
or you get lost
in the crack
in the pavement
man-made and crushing
like the pressure in your chest
when you're about to break though
and out
longingly into the next dimension

where the only road
is transparency.

Gateway

The road to adventure
peels out from under my feet
yet I have not walked the path.

Called to drop
my definition of self
I reach with open arms
as my guides share their gifts
and lead me with new vitality
through the gateway of illusion
beyond old beliefs
to see the miracles that appear
only if I look.

The Sage

She erupts in stillness
all thoughts emptied.
The cosmos is her home now
her dwelling place —
her cave

A visit with her
is like a walk by a mountain stream
Fresh, alive
with acute vision
of what is not there

The sage
takes her learning
and lets it roll downstream

If you catch a bubble
float with it.

Center's Pull

Opening to earth's call
I sink downward
as my toes grip the ground
with an intention of their own
as if they forgot
gravity is already
pulling them
into the center of the earth
rooted and splayed
absorbing energy

so I can rise again
like the trees.

Gifts of my Soul

Gifts of my soul
bless yourself upon me.
Through the long, narrow tunnel
I have trenched
I am ready to receive.

You have given your gifts before
and I claimed them
as my own.

My walls are crumbling.
My heart shoots blood
past my thin skin
My breath forms morning dew
The moon enters my eyes
and sees through them.

My aloneness is the world's pain
My empathy, its joy
My indulgences
the wants of all children
My steadfastness
the bricks of existence
shattering.

My soul, I see
it is not me, anyway
so lavish your gifts
and I will gladly share.

Days of Gray

There is a crack
   in my world
where water seeps
   into the core
   of the earth
where the diatribe
   of opposing forces
   lead beyond traces
   of human awareness.

In this global trend
   toward self-destruction
I am torn
   by dying species
   tainted water
   and atmosphere so clogged
   grays haunt my paintings.

Yet magic abounds
   in this universe
   that calls to be saved
by doctors flying
   into war zones to treat
   the newly wounded.

I seek to be
   part of our greater good
our cosmology that rests
   on human-kind
   to push it forward.

Where politics
   and religion fail
there is nothing left
   to pick up the pieces
but us -- individuals --
   fighting for our
   very existence.

So I follow the crack
   into the center
   of the earth
to touch upon
   what is alive
   that cannot be seen
and needs the most
   to be shared.

In Limbo

Stillness watches over me
like a damp cloud
hovering, waiting.
I ignore it
in my whereabouts
rushing from one task
to the next
overshadowing what is here.

The invitation to go underground
is vague.

The dark, moist morning
beckons me
to expand into it —
recoiling is not an option
seeing in the dark, is.

Surrender

Surrendering into night
I watch the undoings of the day
slowly melt into my bed
as if all my goals
have subsided
desires vanished.

I surrender
to the night's wishes
to be clearly in the moment
unhindered, serene
like an elder
who has done his tasks
lived fully in the world
and now
is ready for the edge.

I enter the sleeping dream
with no regrets
so when the sun rises
I do, too
born fresh in the morning
given another chance
to carry my
night of surrender
into the day.

Heart of Mine

Heart of mine
immeasurable joy
Waken my senses
to the world
Hold my hand
and lead me down the path
where flowers bloom
and long sunrises
cast an air of change
upon me.

Expose the patterns
that unravel your being
and bask me in the wonder
of your sights
Take me deeper
into the longings of the earth
and let me feel
the oneness of all.

Heart of mine,
your grace has lured me
into its ways
My mind, tired of its control,
lays down its head
and rests.

Lilies at Dusk

Warm and glowing
lilies at dusk
catch the last rays
of the sun
and reflect them back
toward the seer
who looks with
uncharted eyes.

Depths abound
when no one is watching
when we are not
blinded by our own eyes
when our hearts open
and the witness
holds no limits
nor directs the view.