Ancient knowing

Ancient knowing.

Complete understanding.

In a land far away.

Magnificence awaits hidden deep below

By the din of the banal, by the din of the ordinary.

My soul blossoms in the eternity it finds

Surrounding me all around.

Near the ocean, the waves come in

And, I hear uttered close within,


In a moment of instant recognition.

Everything that was all knowing,


Near the ruins of centuries past, the wind whispers

Softly in my ear, the symphony

Of a hymn sung long past.

Taking away the clothe of my suffering.

The banality of my existence.

Like the Phoenix rising from the ashes,

The divine that lies within stirs.

Ancient knowing.

Complete understanding.

In a land far away.

Come, come and dance

Come, come and dance.

Dance with me

in the sacred dance.


Come, come and dance.

Shed away all that is illusion

protecting and fielding

a human life.


Come, come and dance.

Strip away all the falsities of a parade

marching by with

flamboyant costumes and masquerades.


Come, come and dance.

Take off your garments

throw off your ideologies

and sing with me

in all your great nakedness.


Come, come and dance.

I breathe in all that you are

and I breathe out all that I am not.

We too are intermingled.

We are one.


Come, come and dance.

Dance the beautiful, stirring,


sacred dance.


Come, come and dance

with me.


Take off the mask

Illusions of grandeur.

Momentary lapses of self-importance?

Egocentric desires run rampant.


Take off the mask.


One word breaks the crackled skin.

Not worshipped enough?

How dare they.


Take off the mask.


Anxiety, fear, defensiveness pervades like fog over the ocean.

Have your fragile assumptions been checked?

Defend that ego.


Take off the mask.


Stop the struggle.

Release yourself into the God

who created you.

Let go of your illusions of self.


Take off the mask.


Let go of the need for control.

Release yourself into the God

who birthed you.

Let go of your illusions of egocentric desires.




“The ego is the false self-born out of fear and defensiveness.” — John O’Donohue



Transform me

Take all of me to

mold and shape

and form.

Transform me.


Take away my ego and

instead instill in me a sense of selfless

devotion and care for the world.

Transform me.


Help me to make amends to all those

that I have hurt,

treated unjust, and failed to love.

Transform me.


Help me to love all of creation

so that I understand that

I am not one above the other

Transform me.


Make me a disciple.

So that I too may spread

faith and not pure doctrine.

Transform me.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Three Acts of Contrition, my dear.

In the meantime,

for my little white lie,

three overdoses have happened.


Two Hail Marys, my dear.

In the meantime,

for my one swear word,

the oceans are dying.


One Our Father, my dear.

In the meantime,

for my rudeness

people around the globe are starving,

drinking unclean water.


So much hatred, violence, and ego-centric living in the world.

I sit in Church, atoning,

while our Earth is dying.



As I sit saying my rote prayers,

beating my chest over and over,

“Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.”

“My fault, my fault, my most grievous fault.”


People are dying all over the world.

And, I confess my white lie to save another.


“I  have sinned through my own fault,

my most grievous fault.”






Courageous friendship

One day a conversation started

between two people

so disparate and so unlikely.


Not knowing whence the conversation would go

they had the courage to start.


It could have withered and died.

Like a seed landing between the cracks in the cement.



Or like this one,

it grew with water, tenderness, and love.



Over and over we try

like Milkweed in the wind

watching the seeds disperse into the air

hoping one solitary seed lands where it will take root.


And, we are changed by the very act of trying.

Transformative and courageous courage.

Holding out our hands.

And, being met with either sunshine or cold, hard frost.








No identity

I am weak.

My heart hangs heavy

full of sadness.

I mourn

what was

thinking not of what could


In making a choice

I rip my identity


Like a bandage on a scab

thinking not of what could be.

Bold, daring.

The scab bleeds like an open wound

throbbing with pain.

Just as my heart feels


full of sadness.

Will it subside?

I feel less than.



No one.

Bleeding, open, raw.

No identity any longer

not thinking of what could be.

Will it subside?