A walk

Life is a journey through stories,
one mind’s creation, divided,
as a game, imaginary maze, dream.
Perchance to wake, but how?
Lost in a walk through space,
noticing a leaf, a rock, bug, or face,
in a small enclosure, confined,
some wish to see, to burst out,
some continue to walk, indefinitely.

I meet you on this path, we smile,
I recognize the cosmos you,
but you can’t see it in yourself.
My heart whispers to yours,
“see…please come home with me.”
And as you smile, lost in thought,
and walk away on the path of stories,
I remain, watching you lovingly,
wondering … how can you see this joy?

All I have are questions. For you,
to see, guide your heart home.
Will you listen? Answer?



Some say they wish to empty,
yet they keep on filling.
It takes courage to truly empty,
erase all time, what was, what will be.
To touch purity of compassion,
love, and intelligence,
means to give our mind,
our heart, and our whole being
to this enquiry of emptiness.


We leave a trace where we thread,
in space, in time, in cyberspace,
anything ever said, absorbed into
vastness of hearts and minds.
Space does not care, so grand,
it absorbs all, the happy, the sad,
the neutral.
In memory, it morphs, lives on
as imagination, as myriad flavors.
Sometimes we wish to erase all trace
of the phantom we were, insignificant,
remove all that was and just be,
be light, be free, be this moment.

What is

True is walking on a journey
of both ultimate and conventional,
equally valid, empty yet full.
Contradiction, you say?
But I whisper: no.
Look. Look all around you
and what do you see?
Like specs and dots in a dance,
seen and unseen, right here, right now.

When I sit without me, frozen in time,
what arises? Not human, not thought-
-driven any longer. And how can anything
be taken personally when there is
no longer a person? No longer a person
yet a functioning form, responding
to the winds of change.

How to get here?
Slowly, with intention to see,
a reference frame of thoughtlessness,
taking thoughts off, one by one,
as dirty old clothes, no longer useful.
One by one, catch them as they arise,
pause and ask them “what are you?”
Not “me,” nor “mine,” nor “I.”
No such thing exists. Illusion.

And fear? You always ask.
A hump to pass, hop over,
holding breath for a moment,
while impermanence washes it away,
wave after wave, riding each one
patiently. Poof, poof, poof!
Like fireworks, or fireflies,
buzzing away into the night.
And each morn brings
with it less, yet so much more.

You ask me to explain with words.
Difficult. Why?
Words give birth to what pains you,
thoughts whirling everywhere,
unexpected yet unsurprising,
day in day out in endless cycle.
Look. Look around you and answer:
are you truly happy now, free?

When you leave words, and thoughts,
yet sense enough, then you know
there is only simplicity, purity, love,
flow. Only this, stripped of all that pains.
Do you believe when I tell you it is joy?
Don’t believe, only look and see directly.
See directly into everything,
heart and mind combined,
nothing left yet everything here.


So many voices, rising, louder,
some sing, some yell, some whisper,
all around the world, wanting to be heard,
to be first, to be right, to be live,
words, ideas, to share, to connect.
Yet … there is a stillness unfound,
quiet, smooth, rich, and all encompassing,
in this moment, inside, within,
one heart beat, more powerful
than all voices combined,
more clear, alive and true.

Surrender to heartsong

We sit, breathe, smell, and taste,
these cups of tea placed before us,
an invitation to share a dance of hearts…
as ancient friends, weaving with words,
visions of cosmic shift to harmony and love.

The raft took a turn to turbulent water,
somewhere along the human journey,
yet hearts all over long for sunshine,
songs of freedom, happiness, and love,
a vision foggy to flow to clear,
gently rocked to shore with lush gardens,
and connection to earth and heaven both.

Words as seeds, we sing, a heart~song
for all to hear, open to love, to joy, to peace,
and inspire voices of hearts to wake,
baby steps to take, gentle as dew drops,
one by one moistening the soil,
turning the wheel to horizons blue.


Look over here ~ what do you see?
You think, but there is no “me.”
The “I” was not here, nor there, nor is,
the “I” is illusion, a dream, a game to be seen.
What is this “I” that appears so real,
what is this “me,” what is the deal?
You seek and you search, who is this “you,”
try to discover and you will see true.
The answer is not in words or a book,
the answer is inside of “you.”