The Other Side Of The Storm

The thick smell of an oncoming storm fills my nostrils.

I feel it's heaviness and am consumed in its darkness

Like my mother's old name.

I make a wish I do not believe in.

My feet are stuck in deep mud

As if the rains had already come.

I danced with lightening many times and though it

Caught me with glancing blows over and over

I did not stop

And sometimes still it 

Draws me in with its thrilling flashes

Of brilliance till I succumb.

A false eye of peace sits in the centre

Telling me all is well and for my highest good.

I still smell the other side of the storm.

Love Knows.....

Each time I am lost

I come home.

With every moment I spend away

From what I know to be true,

I am a moment closer to

Truth.

Not knowing is the simplest thing there is

In this world of thoughtful complexity.

I am myself

When I allow my Self to be.

I need do nothing

You speak.

You expect a response.

And I thought I had to give one.

Instead I do nothing.

Waves of peace lap at my toes,

Spreading their cool relief through me.

I need do nothing.

A mind's worth of fears

Of dark consequences

Stipple their way across my eyes.

Still, I do nothing.

No search can unearth

The treasured pleasure of knowing

I need do nothing.

Mysteries

Ungraspable.
Indescribable.

The cliched enigma your hand moves through
Like smoke or a rainbow.

The nighttime peripheral vision of
Something.....
Or is it nothing?

We are all mysteries.

The more a mystery unfolds,
The more it deepens.

Breaking is not the same as Breaking Open

People run at me with pritstick,

Superglue, band aids and a soft

'There there'

While I stare at them,

Wondering.

Yes, I know, the

Stillness

Unnerves you.

Yes, I know you see

Wrongness

In this grief.

but I unravel all the same.

I turn and turn,

Undoing and undoing and undoing…..

I cannot stop undoing.

I gaze at the world

And I know nothing.

Funny Ol' Flat Face

I cannot wear a dog nose
On my funny ol' flat face - 
It looks awfully silly
And totally out of place.

Why can't I have some other face shape?
One that's much less round?
For every time I've thought that,
I wish I had a pound!

But logic tells us one thing for sure,
So listen if you please:
If I have a face that's shaped like the moon,
Then I must be made of cheese!

Nothing

I have no words......
Nothing;
Nothing;
Not.......

How can I write
When I know
Nothing

And how can I be
Known?

Yet here is another
Telling me in words
My own experience
Without my saying it.

So I suppose......
Love knows.