Truth and Love

Despite the arduous attention (and oft worst intention) of those among him, whom I will not mention, and most resolutely by the virtue (and its very lacking) of such said invention, he became to know, that is, to witness, to discern and to inhabit, that which had previously been unattained, the unfeigned Truth. Oh, tried mightely, they did, and many time persuasively in their impudent abscondence.  But what those unversed in truth unrehearsed fail to grasp is that Honesty is not wrested from pools of contemtion, No! any more than it is so fabricated from bits and parts of fractured falsehoods. Truth is not a mere word rolled from a tickle-tricked tongue, a forehead creased twixt eyes fixed in faked expression, or a some superflous contrivance of calculated means, not one bit! Rather, Truth is the grand manifestation derived by one’s alignment and habitation with the universe in time and space infinitum. Or in other words, you cannot lie a truth.

Well, as you can no doubt imagine (for no doubt is being cast!), upon having been first availed to the Truth unassailed, he greatly resented all of the lies and as well as those who dared to lie them. And as time progressed, the malice digressed into a sort of  sorrowful and pithy pity. How terribly saddening it is to never know the beauty of Truth, and trust, and all that is just! And sooner than later, as space amplified about him in pulses and pushes,  he verily found himself unbound in Truth and Love, Love being inseparable from Truth and Truth from Love. In a moment of pure clarity (and free of any piety), he saw of the charity which brought him to this epiphanic apex, and knew, yes knew through the connected universe, that he must love those responsible, those who had lied, who cheated, who stole repeated, for they showed him the Truth.


The tree

Up the tree
I climb
my hands and feet
on limbs I reach
higher, up I go
higher, still
a spot is found
where the air is more fresh
than on the ground below
which seems so much smaller now

Up the tree
I rise
above the noise of the
people with their chatter
about how to do ‘this’ and
how to be ‘that’ and
how it is done
as a matter of fact

In fact!

But they do not look up
amongst the leaves where I hide
and ride the merciful sway
of a bough in the breeze
with the heel of my head
against the rough bark
where I feel
like a babe in my mother’s
sweet arms

Up the tree
I rest
and watch the marmosets
at nest in the branches
and listen the call
of a bem-te-vi song
in the late-day sun-light
dappled on my face
and in my eyes, lids grow
heavy, they fold
and I forget the world below
for just a
minute more
I will stay

My Friend

My friend,

So much time has come to pass
since the day
I saw you last, and yet
you are always with me
in my thoughts and my dreams at night
the years having undiminished
a friendship left unfinished
So young then we were
so crazy
those aimless days we
drove our cars too fast to care
the endless roads that lead to
nowhere but
to us
in those moments so profound
we found
a friendship, one that
after all this time has passed
since we’ve known each other last
I still think of
in day dreams and sleep
and wonder if you, too
keep the memory
the way I do
of you
my friend

The Stream

In a cove
a mountain stream forms a pool
surrounding rocks, vast and eternal
I stand here
and stained
with conditioned fear
My bare feet on smooth-worn river stones
I leap into the bottomless

My skin
burns frigid and
my heart
in my chest and head
My breath
escapes me in a
voice I’ve never known
my own

I immerse my body below the surface
where all boundaries between
me and the world, flesh and earth, mother and child
cleansing the residue of a former self
free of shame
free of guilt
free of hate and anger
free of

In a cove
a mountain stream forms a pool
surrounding a man, giant and eternal,
and entirely