I am not your possession​

I am not your possession.

You cannot own me.

I am not a book, a company, an idea, or even money.

I am not yours to have.

 

Look away with that eye of greed.

Glance it elsewhere

at someone or something

that glances back.

You cannot look me in the eye.

 

Let me be

in my innocence of desire.

You seek

to poison and impoverish me.

 

I am not your possession.

You cannot own me.

I am not a car, a boat, a place, or even a house.

I am not yours to have.

 

There, over there.

The one that dares

to look me in the eye.

To peer deep

and sees

my secret beauty

hidden deep beneath.

 

Let me be

with truth, courage, and expectation.

To see me in true light.

Who seeks

to know my nature, destiny,

and my inborn divinity.

 

Full of invitation, possibility, and depth.

 

But, not you.  No, not you.

 

I am not your possession.

 

 

The wound of mortality

You carry it.

I carry it.

We all carry it.

Deep in our heart

lie the wound of

mortality.

 

We try

to cover it with a blanket of skin,

but

no matter how much we try,

no wound is ever silent.

 

Beyond that fair exterior,

I feel the tremble

of your wound,

just as you feel the

tremble of mine.

 

You carry it.

I carry it.

We all carry it.

Deep in our heart

lie the wound of

mortality.

 

For one brief moment,

the sacred enters in

knowing exactly where our pain lay.

 

And, in that moment,

the divine light heals

your soul,

my soul,

as it gently weeps.

 

You carry it.

I carry it.

We all carry it.

Deep in our heart

lie the wound of

mortality.

 

For each of us,

the voice is different,

from a time when we were

damaged

or

wronged.

It evades time

and

analysis.

 

Only with waiting,

as with all great arrivals

in the soul,

healing comes from a place

we never predicted nor

anticipated.

 

Silently waiting for its time.

 

As your soul gently weeps,

as my soul gently weeps,

no wound ever remains silent.

I hunger deeply for less

I hunger deeply for less.

To feel what space feels like

and nothing else.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To clear away

what is banal and exterior.

 

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To want for nothing

for all I have is welled up.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To be nothing in a world that

desperately seeks to be

everything.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To be in solitude in a world

centered on

greed and corruption,

lies and deceit.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To strip away all that does not

matter even though

consumerism says that it does.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To lay my soul down

naked to be illuminated

by the natural light of life.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To lie silently with myself

and to know all that I need to know

lies deep hidden inside

waiting to be excavated.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To love others and to be loved

in a world that lacks

empathy and compassion.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

To become a mystic in

the modern world.

 

I hunger deeply for less.

In the shelter of my soul.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find peace.

In a world that knows no boundaries,

I go inward.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find familiarity.

In a world that is deep and cold,

I go inward.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find belonging.

In a world that has no frames or frontiers,

I go inward.

 

In the shelter of my soul, I find you.

In a world full of anonymity,

I find a like echo in the intimacy

of the other.

 

My liberator, my savior, my redemption. 

Anger.

I hiss, I sputter, I spew.

 

Far too long I put up with it.

Just because, I wanted to avoid it.

 

“STOP!”

“NOW!”

 

I scream.

I can’t take it anymore.

 

Your lies, your deceit,

your blaming, your betrayal.

You psychoanalytical drama.

 

“STOP!”

“NOW!”

 

Anger.

I hiss, I pop, I screech.

 

My righteous anger rebels

against my own voice.

 

I can’t put me last

and you always first.

 

Don’t you see what you have done?

 

“STOP!”

“NOW!”

 

Perhaps, I am victim of a fire started

a long time ago?

 

Perhaps, I am too nice or eager to please

someone who gives two shits about me?

 

My fury simmers to a boil underneath

my nice exterior

until there is one moment

that I become more important

than you.

 

I unleash it.

 

Anger.

I scream, I wail, I cry.

 

Don’t you hear me?

 

I didn’t need to court your approval in the first place

why did I even try to?

 

A searing flame crackles deep within.

 

Anger.

I hiss, I bellow, I belch.

 

“STOP!”

“NOW!”

 

Now I have the power.

Now I am liberated.

Now I no longer comply.

 

You are not worthy of me.

I value life.

 

I claim my presence

here and now.

 

“STOP!”

“NOW!”

 

Anger.

My liberator, my savior, my redemption.

 

 

 

 

Great uncertainty

Now is the time

of

great uncertainty.

 

What I once knew to be true

I know not of anymore.

 

Dishelvement and confusion

weight me down

with gravity.

 

My heart is heavy.

My physical body tired.

I am spent.

 

Now is the time

of

great uncertainty.

 

But, yet you stand there

on the margins of

unknowing.

 

You encourage and guide

with your all your experienced

wisdom.

 

You know not of me,

but yet you walk in my

very shoes.

You understand me.

 

There is no judgment

just release.

 

Now is the time

of

great uncertainty.

 

I feel your whole

presence enfolding

and helping me

find that stairway up.

 

I crawl then climb

up, up, up

the staircase

towards the door ajar

where the dim light

leads me forward

out of the darkness that surrounds me.

 

Now is the time

of

great uncertainty.

Hands reach out

Hands reach out

To hold another

To embrace the other.

 

Hands reach out

To touch and caress the lover

To bless the lives of others.

 

Hands reach out.

To mend fences that define the line.

To build walls that stand the test of time.

 

Hands reach out

to pull triggers killing one another

to swish a knife in defiance of some other.

 

Hands reach out

to take communion holier than thou

To drink from chalices in memory of a vow.

 

Hands reach out

to write books that tell stories from long ago

to direct symphonies of great show.

 

My hands reach out to you.

What will you do?