-a certain momentum-

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."

-Emily Dickinson

Love is, indeed, in the air.

Okay, I am just running on sugar.

It happens.

Really,...

wholesomely and truly,

truth in love is like an virgin meadow

that no one really knows.

As far as an eye can struggle to conceive,

faint, very faint

glimpses of truth in love

swirl in the air.

Such truth lies in wait

deep, deep, deep

in the back of its lair.

Far and deep in the corner

of its lair,

truth sits there in vain

as our present-day world turns and tumbles;

it begins to collect dust.

Yes, the truth collects dust!

Have you ever seen a dust devil?

It can raise some hell.

Breaking Free

One, two, three,...

well, yes, I am checking.

one, two, three,...

you know,

I am kinda having trouble

getting out of my seat.

I think the quieter

I wonder,

it mists into a ponder.

A reality in the mind of mine marches on.

A forest of truth awaits seekers.

It is where true freedom lies.

Must freedom ring,..

what would be of its ring?

Might it be the salvation of aloneness,

the medicinal relief in loving and being loved,

or

maybe chopping wood and carrying water?

Zen in,

Zen out.

It could become a trend.

People of the 21st century are, ahem, can be such whores.

Pardon, but whoring happens.

After all,

trends usually involve whoring.

Addictions include whoring...

I trust you get the picture.

Whoring, set aside from the duties of a prostitute,

is the means of excessive usage.

Clearly, that does not evoke freedom.

Now,..

how,...

how is true freedom truly defined?.

Freedom is beyond words.

Freedom is way past flesh.

I quote Ecclesiastes,

"Even the breeze on the arm is vanity."

Yes, a bit ironic.

I am saying a word is beyond words.

It happens.

So, tell me,

help me...

it is our journey.

Well, we are in the same lifetime.

We owe it to ourselves and the future generations

if there must be any more.

How do we break free?

The Carousel of Our Present-Day Lifetime.

Time.

One little lousy word.

Still, it is massive.

A massive little lousy word!

Time whisks away

like

the grainy alcohol in a cheaper-than-a-tin bottle

in the hand of desperation.

It goes fast,

yes, time.

The way I see it,

time has succeeded a fictitiously prosperous sense in our lives...

especially these days.

We succumb to the fleeting tick-tock

of the clock.

Each and every single day

there is a split-second

where the clock

meets our gawking eyes

after mindless hours stuck in a whirlwind of nothingness.

We have forgotten.

We have let life slip before our eyes.

Life or time,...

You might wonder.

I say life

because

time has consumed the marrow of life.

Time has crippled our sense of life.

After all,

what does one say

when one realizes the fleeting speed of a day

when it hit dusk.

"Oh, where did the time go?!"

But what about life?

Where did life of that day go!?

Recover your sense of time.

Recover the pace of your life.

Recover YOUR life,

or perhaps,

rediscover your life.

Turbulence of the Mind

States of my mind come and go

quite just like

the seasons come and go.

Served by the illumination of a perfect summer day,

I easily thrive like a gecko

only on that day, anyway.

Fathomed by a grey autumn day,

I pause more often

to the stillness

of the bay.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me?

I ask the divine

as I stand stunned

on a pleasantly frigid winter day.

"How did winter get here so quickly?"

Silence.

More Silence.

As fragrant blossoms arrive,

wonders begin to dance in my head,...

as they begin to find their places

in my head

and make me believe

they have settled.

Just about when they do,

they are softly but quickly blown into the gentleness

of the spring breeze.

In all four seasons

that take their turns

in a sweet year.

The mind can only follow the heart.

Silently I am reminded

of the vast course in life

I must take on.

Oh, how I must take it well.

Seasons of life,

apples,

oranges,

berries,

or

whatever fruit that moves you.

Devour it to the core

with your mouth.

See what you are left with.

The marrow of such fruit

is

what you are left with.

When a season departs,

we are left with

the marrow

of the given atmosphere.

Oh, how we must go on.

The summer air gives to the fall breeze

as

the fall breeze begin to drop icicles...

Then,

the icicles transform into puddles

of hydration just for spring.

Oh, what it takes to just spring back,...

Oh, such states of the mind.

Stealth

So, tell me...

who has not been robbed.

No, I am not talking about being mugged

at the ATM machine.

For the thousandth time,

being robbed in the monetary means

is NOTHING

compared to being robbed

in a spiritual sense.

I will tell you this,...

if you will look at it this way...

a baby is robbed

of its natural state of "mind"

the very second

the baby is shown

that

one needs words to reciprocate in life.

Now, tell me,

what have YOU been robbed of?

"Intelligence is the inborn capacity to see,

to perceive.

Every child is born intelligent,

then made stupid by the society.

We educate him in stupidity,

and sooner or later

he graduates in stupidity."

-Osho

Rain makes good medicine

May you see the rain

the way I see it.

Rain falls from the skies

like a healing dance.

When was the last time

you looked up in the skies

and let rain fall on your face?

Let a heart of sorrow,

or maybe,

a mind like a broken record

be the reason.

Sometimes

we just need the rain

to wash it all away.

Is it such a crime

to believe?

Is there a reason

for the heart

to feel such things?

Call the melodies of the heart

gifts from the divine.

Now

what about the times

we need to heal?

Oh, the rain.

The rain washes it all away.

The rain comes in

swaying downward

doing a healing dance.

We just need

a little bit of rain

and time.

Let the rain wash it away,

whatever it is that you need gone.

Let the rain take it for you.

Breathe in the dance

the rain is doing for you.

One day

we shall see

why rain is so sacred.

Are you awake?

"Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one's head."

-Mark Twain

What do i remember after all that I've forgotten?

In the thickness of silence,

I find myself drowning in indescribable peace.

Slowly I recall...

how I often forget

to write of happiness.

Happiness melts in the mouth of truth.

Never there has been a clearer sign

of divine light in pleasure.

I only want to embrace

what I believe

I've been given.

Divinity is like a spectrum

of complex beauty in truth

blended in fine, fine sand.

There is an aroma about you.

As the air of your aroma settles on the ground

of my existence,

I only know it is simply a part

of my truth,

a truth in my journey.

Something about you inspire me.