...and she slides sideways
into the dance of love

"...a little heel toe step, and the
sideways slide of the dance of love."

Lucia Robson, RIDE THE WIND

Happiness is not achieved
by the conscious pursuit of happiness
it is generally the by-product
of other activities

Aldous Huxley

Americans are a gullible lot
falling victim (prey) to every passing shill
the pendulum swings to and fro
and in its wake
the dis-illusioned, dispossessed, and un-initiated
a blood sacrifice upon the altar of illusions
be it a pop-star, politician or "spirit-filled" ministry

the hopes and dreams of the multitude
lie deflated, flat
at the altar of the trickster

on the prairie undulating
in a sea of deep grass
the Comanche made his home

could we, had we been more humble
gracious
not built forts, but simple camps
as visitors, met the Indian on his on terms

could we not have had a blending
of cultures
hybrids, spinoffs
richer than either alone

could we not have lived in peace

looking thru the window
Mother Nature drew me out
into her Bounty

the withered limbs
of winter weather-stripped trees
glowing with the setting sun
promises of a New Beginning

among the feminine
she stands out
as the most lovely, the wisest
gentle, yet firm

many would be her suitor
but few can withstand the rigors
of ultimate Truth, Beauty, Love

those brave or fool-hearted enough
to submit to her discipline
to those few, she opens her Treasures
in her, the world is transformed

my anima, again
she's irresistible
beautiful and cultured
and so warm to the touch
tho she is demanding
or more aptly, commanding
strict devotion to her
and to her, alone

why is it
that when you are not looking for something
is, when you find it

many winters have come and gone
since i first trod this path
upon the Earth Mother
my journey has seemed as a dream
or as day and night
coming in and out of consciousness
but one thing remains constant
that subtle, moonglow light
that twists and turns, weaving
the many things into one
and it is to winter i owe
this season of reflections

he carried a blanket
as many thru-out the ages have
rolled and slung over his shoulder
this blanket, worn and tattered
was as close as the wanderer got
to home and hearth
this blanket
his only refuge from a cold and uncaring world
yet when he rolled up in it
at nightfall, this blanket was his home

The Garden of Eden collapses
not when man is exiled
but when God walks out

only by abandoning his creation
can morality begin
the dichotomy of good and evil
is man's vehicle for spiritual development

Primal Power lends form to Archetypes
wherein there is no friction of time
yet time becomes a means manifesting
making actual that which lies potential
harmonizing things that accord in tone
that they may vibrate together