Freedom comes from loving what is

I believe
in the something within us

I believe
we can be better than yesterday

I believe
pain comes when it is needed

I believe
in the realization of being

I believe
another word for peace is chaos

I believe
chaos is another word struggle

I believe
we have yet to find the four corners of our jigsaw

I believe
in love’s natural state of naked awareness

I believe
the skin of age is equal to the trickle of knowledge

I believe
in the scent of passion

I believe
that one day, we shall accept our failings

I believe
freedom comes from loving what is

I believe
in you


… feel
the temptation to seduce
and to be seduced

feel that tingle of slowness
surrounding your skin

inhale the moment
allow it to inhabit your beat

allow it to seduce your mind
into believing you are free

…  feel
your skin
and the moisture between your fingers

feel the slowness of time
kissing your soul

inhale and exhale
touch the essence of, passion

allow it to seduce you
allow it your freedom

… feel
the vibration of life
tremble inside your heart

between your fingers
your toes, your thighs, your



So near
yet so distant

I know how trees feel
as the sun kisses them

I see now why they reach up
how they, live and die to feel

So far away
is your smile
and your embrace
yet so near

I know how flowers feel
as the bees drink them

I see now why they blossom
how they, live and die to feel

So, your shadow
reaches in to pluck me from my dreams
from my safe place
from my prison of solitude
yet, there are no prisons
except for those we create within us

I know how rivers feel
as the fish breathe them

I see now how they flow
why they are invisible; feeling

So sublime
is this emergence

The biography of time

I see spumes of decay
drifts of dreams
sky whales
the distance of belief
tai chi
the blue of you, when grey
and things that are big, poofy, and full of humidity

I see filigrees of snail trails
slush puppies
art creating itself
knitted petals
reflected images
scratched and bleeding scars
and pyramids unwrapping their mummies

I see the biography of time

Unfinished Horizons

I turn the music off
for now it is a distraction

I cannot force the poem
but I know it wants to breathe

Perhaps it’s the suffocating scream
I feel when she breathes

Maybe it’s the horizon of green
waiting for the horizon of shadow

Summer evenings
how you evanesce

how your stillness defies gravity
whilst echoing creation’s song

how you are a mirage
of green, blue and haze of death’s prayer

and then there is the birdsong
that smile of eternity

hiding in plain sight