Vibration of soul

This was originally posted in 2012! Wow, ten years ago!
I decided it needed an upgrade and a bit of an edit.
This was originally posted in 2012! Wow, ten years ago!
I decided it needed an upgrade and a bit of an edit.
We are born seeing the world as a solid place
with different surfaces: earth, air, water, fire and so forth.
All solid in their own way.
We go about our lives interacting with each surface
creating things using a mixture of these solids which includes ourselves.
Sometimes when there is a silence there comes a clarity
and the dust motes begin their slow dance of finality.
If you sit long enough with the air around you becoming still
you’ll come to see things in their natural states.
You’ll receive a heightened appreciation of your surroundings
and with your senses reborn you can watch as the dust settles
to reveal a blank canvas where everything permanent, solid,
has an ambient essence of life with a different atmosphere.
You’ll see.
my brain is dead
a numbskull
an imbecile
a rotting lump of lard
it wakes this morning
in the throes of emptiness
it has drank my coffee
and nibbled a nibble
it has opened the curtains
dived in the shower
drank another coffee
and nibbled another nibble
so here it is
writing an empty thing
a parched breath of morning
a slice of cake
without the cream!
~
Smiles are contagious, and one little smile
can illuminate and cause a whole avalanche of smiles
Also, one smile can show us the way to unseen possibilities within us.
Just one little smile.
Dawn’s moon
cold light
naked, up there
throughout the morning
barely visible
barely moving
silent
palest blue
palest grey
Dawn’s moon
meadow sky
naked
as a petal
My eyes, aware of such
aware of light
aware of all things to delight
my eyes see things
I cannot see
their tiredness seeks a reason
Winter’s killing grip takes hold
to cleanse the air of much
It brings about a strange old feeling
… your eyes, aware of such
My eyes weep not
at the sight of love
for that sweet thing is lost
my eyes, aware of such
aware of time
aware of sunset’s rusty rime