A celebration.

I celebrate you.

You celebrate me.

I celebrate you.

 

My heart celebrates all that is you.

Your heart celebrates all that is me.

We celebrate each other.

 

Take me

and

dance

and sing.

 

Take me

and

lift

my

soul

heavenward.

 

Lift me high, high, high

to where

the lovely light

of the eternal will

enrapture me.

 

I celebrate you.

You celebrate me.

I celebrate you.

 

I recognize you.

You delight me.

You recognize me

I delight you.

 

Take me

and let’s

dance and sing

in this moment

of actuality

down, down, down

nourishing

the deep dark

recesses of my soul.

 

I celebrate you.

You celebrate me.

I celebrate you.

 

My heart celebrates all that is you.

Your heart celebrates all that is me.

We celebrate each other.

 

A blessing, a gift.

My heart is content.

I lie still in gratitude.

 

Together, we have painted a picture

of belonging.

 

Celebrate!

 

A Nomadic Soul.

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

You see one facade.

The one for the world to consume.

To laugh, and joke, and cajole.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

What is visible is not what lies deeply hidden.

Conformity in a world that demands uniformity.

To think, and to feel, and to be the same.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

What is visible remains consistent.

It is only what you want to see.

To be the same at work, the same at home, the same with friends.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Longing for inner voyages that no one would ever guess.

Only my heart knows where it must go.

To meet its longing, to feel its beat, to be different.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Desperately seeking to answer an ancient call.

Full of creativity and imagination.

To dream, to bless, to be called.

 

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Reaching out into the distance my soul aches

to unite with whatever or whomsoever

its desire it evokes.

Deep inside lies a nomadic soul.

Distant and apart from who I am outwardly

feeling the separation from the absence

of light and luminosity missing.

 

 

While I live in this world

of social this and social that,

my heart is in exile.

Wildly misunderstood

in a world that seeks not to understand.

 

Deep down …

lies an old nomadic soul.

 

 

My mid-life desires

In mid-life, I long to inhabit my own dignity.

To wear it like a presence unknown.

 

The way I walk, the way I hold myself, the way that I sit, and speak or not.

 

In mid-life, I finally want to come into my own.

To wear my dignity with ease and composure.

 

The way that I look at you, hear you, and talk about you or not.

 

In mid-life, I desire to be respected and honored all for who I am.

To wear my self-esteem with confidence and brilliance.

 

The way that I look at myself with affection, understanding, and respect.

 

In mid-life, I no longer want to look out there for me, but deep within.

To honor my self, and to love who I am with concern and worthiness like a lover loves his love.

 

In mid-life, I want to bloom into the grace and graciousness that is all mine to claim.

To look deep into my heart and embrace the love and light that shines for all those who seek.

 

In mid-life, I want to wear my spirit held deep within, as my outer cloak, never to be robbed of again, only to be held like a precious gem.

 

In mid-life, I finally want to belong to myself letting my soul sing freely to you.

 

 

 

In the light of love

In the light of love,

the sacred luminous of holy

casts its glance

longingly.

 

In the light of love,

music is made

lovingly

crafted

by expressed longings.

 

 

In the light of love,

two are made whole

where once

they lay

separately,

they now lay

at once together.

 

 

In the light of love,

the divine,

appears

between them,

enclosed lightly

in

their lover’s embrace

loosely holding

love ever within.

 

Lately, my interest in chanting has been growing, slowly like a birthing it is taking root.  Deva and Miten lovingly share chanting with the world.  Their music is beautiful and so is their love.  

 

This is my poetic take on their song.

The poem and the poet

I reach deep into your core

Reminding you of things past,

Long forgotten

Or even

Buried

I reverberate

What once was

What once lived deep within

And all of those left behind

Whether intentional or not.

I reach out to those

Long past places of your experiences

Finding those lost regions

Of silent and invisible feelings.

I travel far into your depths

Reaching almost to your core

To bring forward

Your neglected and distant

Longing.

I am the poem.

Written by the poet.

Who knows and understands

The deep and distant

geography of your soul.

Danger, magic

Danger, magic

All in one.

Knowing.

 

My mind seeks and explores

thoughts move back and forth

like a relentless voyager.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

Distant shores beckon me.

Like waves rolling me to and fro,

I long to discover anew.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

I am a pilgrim

in search of

ecstasy,

in search of

discovery.

 

My mind rolls on waves

to the shores

of mystery,

I am called to discover.

 

Thoughts roll to and fro

fractured

through the prism of life.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

I am a discoverer.

I am an explorer.

An archeologist of the

soul.

 

Drawn by the unknown

into the mystery,

from anonymity to intimacy.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

I awake to the numinous

lying below

cloaked as knowledge

but emerging as desire.

 

 

 

“To be dead is stop believing in the masterpieces we will begin tomorrow.”  — Patrick Kavanaugh

 

Running wild and free

Hustle, bustle.

Day by day goes by.

I am lost in a swirl of endless work.

Nonstop tragedies.

Emergencies that are not mine.

 

And, then I stop.

I remember running,

wild and free.

 

Running miles and miles in the woods.

Over and over, foot in front of foot

31 miles gone by.

 

And, I remember

being wild and free.

 

My soul stirs for

the edge of the mountain

where I hear the echo

of birds and the wind in the trees.

 

My soul stirs

when I go out alone

and enter the immensity of solitude.

 

My soul stirs

when I go to places

in the mountains

alone

above the modern world

where rain and wind

have sculpted the landscape

into beautiful and fragmented

portraits.

 

And, I remember running,

wild and free.

 

I must go back into the mountains,

on the trails,

where I am purified and feel my

strength return.

 

My heart is heavy and confused

lately.

Tears roll easily.

 

I long for this quiet eternity

to restore

my lost

tranquility.

 

And, I remember running,

wild and free.

 

Where I return home to my soul.