Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Regarding the mystery

Regarding the mystery   

This language which I do not speak,
lately comes to me by way

of the great mystery no one comprehends
and so I remain silent mostly – better not

to understand, nor speak, this wisdom
than the human, understandable points

held forth daily, apparently far from any truth –
the constant parroting of love and mercy,

courage and virtue without the least authenticity
or reality behind the uttered words.

So perhaps better mere silence, refraining
from complicity, regarding the mystery

and its tenacious beauty, so terrible
and unimaginable – this Word, this God

unutterable on every human tongue,
this purported Oneness,

this homecoming along the inexhaustible,
unfathomable, inexpressible Way.

O child of God, you regret your silence
and then you regret your speech.
(photo by danymena88 - pixabay)

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

The work that must be done

The work that must be done   

It appears the loneliness
will become almost unbearable.

Sorted out along the way
by unidentifiable voices,

stripped of being the soldier
you always prided yourself on being;

nothing at all dramatic –
just the bleak, quiet, tedious,

bare-boned loneliness
of the immeasurable, unmarked terrain,

once you get down to it –
the work that must be done.

No one to share your trials, triumphs,
failures, whether the mission bears fruit,

not the least recognition given
except from God, perhaps, if there is One. 

O child of God, your every thought and utterance
binds you to the delusion under which you suffer.
(photo by Schnauzer @ pixabay)

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Go with it

Go with it      

I want to not know
any other way to be.

Cut my alternatives
down to zero, the original grain

good for me, good for me;
truth will out and out of that

worn out humbleness
holiness revealed,

holy however
imperfect, impure, impaired.

Dream if you must
of unbridled potentiality.

I want to not know
any other way to be,

rubbed down to the nub, the original grain
and go with it, go with it, go with it.

O child of God, Meher said God is found
where you are not.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

That old zen saw

That old zen saw      

Ride your horse, goes that old zen saw,
along the edge of a sword, observing calmly –

to one side, the outer forms;
to the other, the inner realm.

Ride between, grasping neither, clean
as a whistle, not a hoof print left behind.

Bodhidharma counseled outside –
no engagement, no entanglements,

no arousals or intervention.
Inside – no indulgences, no rejection,

no denial or shying away.  Settle down
where there is no settling down –

in the saddle of the horse,
along the sword’s edge; ride on,

a part of neither, caught not in the dust-mire
of the outer nor the seductive fantasy of the inner.

O child of God, you are, apparently,
the whole of both and more. 
(photo by Sponchia @ pixabay)

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Empty threats and promises

Empty threats and promises    

On a perch overlooking the ocean,
I sit in folded meditation. 

Between gusts of wind plaintively
whispering, stroking my skin –

the sounds of the crashing waves below.
Thoughts and feelings, hopes and fears

arise, wash over me and recede.
Though intimate and particular,

they are no more substantial and crucial,
no more belonging to me

than the wind’s caress and the surf’s roar.
No need to take seriously the fleeting touch

of the ineffectual, capricious wind,
the surf’s cacophony which is outside

myself and beyond control.  No need to follow
their empty threats and promises 

down the winding trail that leads
away from the Source; from the sea’s edge;

away from my body perched and folded
on the precipice above the breakers’ roar.

O child of God, from where arises this stranger
who you consider to be yourself? 
(photo by Obsedian3825 - pixabay)