Reality is so strange
is it but a dream
or
is the dream reality

even more strange is that
the answer to both questions
is very likely "yes"

so let us dream the reality
that we desire
let forces unknown
conspire to make them come true

Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing, fresh from the world

Sweet's the rain's new fall, sunlight from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Spung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

Ysuf Islam

Rev. Wright is right
he speaks the Truth
as Spirit moves him
but for political correctness
expediency
his favorite son, denies him

the issue is not Wright
or wrong
but can the vision on high
survive the transition to the valley
below

uttering primal incantations
hypnotic, repetitive chants
rhythmic reverberations

walk the world
perhaps not in some far-away
exotic location
but walk the world
in your own neighborhood

in walking there is a perception
that arises
akin to roaming wild and free
walk the world
and know your spirit

...a clan where children

are people in their own right
perhaps, even more so

due to their closer proximity

to Original Innocence

ego keeps getting in the way
i step on it stumble over it
run up against it
until i remember:
Abide in the Creator

so blind, i have to be
periodically reminded

I found myself in a moment in time
no really, i mean i found myself

not until you are overcome
by a moment so consuming
that it totally possesses you
can you possess yourself

not until all your "self" concepts
are completely overcome
undone
can you for the first time
know and own yourself

i heard a voice calling
as from deep within a well
yea, it startled me
called me by name

the voice is the message
that there lives within
a spiritual entity
is message enough for me

something to do with synchronicity...

in my heart, desiring oneness with Nature
and the setting sun, perfectly poised
over a rooftop, between two tree branches
so framed but for a few brief moments

then, being in position to perceive
such a heavenly alignment
a coming together of heart's desire
in time and space
my own personal Stonehenge
even if for a brief moment, only

A blessing bestowed by Spirit
by Divine Providence
.

...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