To the Undying Light A plaintive cry as of a wounded soul Caught in a net of ambiguity, The closeness of a lover's clasp she knew, Sweet intimacy and the eyes exchange. How swiftly flies the arrow passion-tinged, A torment and a joy within the heart And bodies longing never to depart From the enfolding arms, delight's caress. And yet a yearning for a diviner state, A merging of the spirit with its source. The inner loneliness cannot be filled From any human fount but God alone Must come into the temple well-prepared And lead the seeker to the undying Light.

Towards the Fires of Dawn I wait alone in the cave of unconsciousness The unfailing transformation of the soul. Darkness clings to me like a towering cloak Covering obscurities of self, Hiding the light I know to be my own. The coins of freedom fallen from my hand Drop silently upon the carpeted floor. I laugh among companions then I weep Alone within the forest of the mind. Death comes to all around me whom I loved, Who offered in my grief comfort's words And smiled in the distance with the failing light. Soon I shall leave this hermitage of green Whose flowered greetings sing to me each day, Where hawks and swans and snakes befrie

Three Haiku for Kelly 8/19/06 Nearer now The mountain peaks That seemed so distant in my youth. I look on things With wondrous eyes As the newborn fawn perceives the world. Friend of my soul And Mother's child Your love turns back the press of time.

A Higher Calling Each day is a discovery of sorts In the lexicon of my limping way, For example I have found that I have warts, Oh, not the physical excrescences But the encumbrances of thought that stay My growth with their repetitive retorts. There are lines so stale and hackneyed yet I smile As old clichés that repeat themselves on end Like worn out clothes sadly out of style, Loss and painful reminiscences. There is a part that does not bow or bend Yet tolerates this nonsense for awhile. I work alone with my beloved flowers In a garden that is surely half divine Turning the soil as God turns the hours. I scan the stars and ma

If This Be My Last Hour Once in an oceanic dance of death, The secure earth from my feet removed, Helpless in the violent undertow, The mighty waves crashing over me, No strength remained, no voice within the surge Could summon aid from that now distant shore. Drowning I was calm and said to Her, "If this be my last hour then my life I give to Thee for the blessings and the light And grace that Thou has poured upon this head. I offer up my soul in gratitude And ask that I may serve in future lives Thy will upon this earth I worship so." My arms outstretched I lay in calm repose, The struggle ended I spoke alone Her name. As answer to

I Have Touched Her Feet A casket of unparalled delight Brimming with the joy of human form, Divine, attired in our mortal dress, A tiara of stars above Her haloed head, The secrets of the mystic dance revealed In every step upon the offered soil. The radiance in Her eyes a thousand suns Appear as nightfall on a silent land, Her voice a music of forgotten spheres. She lit in me the fierce eternal flame That heatless burns consuming all the dross, Her speech the very utterance of God, Her smile could kindle joy in barren hearts, Her touch transform to beauty all the dull Distorted images that plague our days. I have touched Her feet,

Upon the Paths of Time Feb. 18, 2006 There is still too much in us that would resist The swift descent of the transforming grace. Old established things reluctant prove To vacate their ensconced familiar space. The ingenious machinations of the mind, The vital self in love with its desires, Even the body's unwillingness to change Weigh heavily on the spirit that aspires For calm and peace, surrender to the Light, The radiant godhead whom we feel we know Within, above, perhaps our very soul Encouraging our feet to swiftly go To the mounting hills that towards the heavens climb And touch their feet upon the paths of time.

The Mother of Creation Desire was strong in me, the subtle "I" Had wrapped the world into its packaged view, The Ego swallowed each great mystery And thought itself the Knower of the true. A moment dawned all time cannot abjure When first I saw Her in Her carven chair, She greeted me with a welcoming 'Bon jour!' The Mother of Creation seated there. And then a mighty transformation came, That turned the being towards its proper course Nothing I was would ever be the same, I lived within the fire and felt the force. All things ugly, all things undivine Were swept away or changed by Beauty's hand. This narrow sight glim

I Must Learn I must learn to live again Discarding sorrow's past And sing the spirit's one refrain Of blessings I've amassed. I must learn to walk again, Recovery is slow, I lived secluded in my pain With nowhere else to go. I must learn to fly again Where dreams are truly real, And demons of the dark are slain On battlegrounds surreal. I must wed laughter and delight Break from this hermit shell, Regain the visionary sight In peace once more to dwell.

I Have Been Witness I have been witness to a thousand births And made acquaintance with the one called death, I have seen beauty unvanquished by his touch And heard in many rooms at the final hour The cosmic silence when the soul departs. Each day I die to all things old and worn To wake to joy that beckons me come forth And live in rapture letting go the past.