Poetry, Reflections

The Other…

I see you…

I see the struggle you undertake every day.

I see the smiles you fake along the way.

I see the haunted looks you hide

and the tears you haven’t cried.

I see you…

I hear you…

I hear the words you say

and the ones you’ll never speak

I hear the strength that’s gone,

your voice now tremulous and weak.

I hear you…

I feel you…

I feel your pain in the day to day

I feel the joy that slipped away.

I feel your fear that nothing will change

I feel the certainty that we’ve lost this game.

I feel you…

I know you…

I know what makes you different

I know what makes us the same.

I know where you are headed

I know because I’m going that way.

I know you…

My Other isn’t other

Any more than I’m my Self.




But together.

I am Me.

I am We.

I am…

Quite simply

Every thing.

Conversations, Poetry

Norma Jean…

Today I finally (!) got a few minutes to meditate. It’s been weeks since I’ve been able to sit in silence and listen to Me. This is the conversation I overheard… (And no, I have no idea who Norma Jean might be, or who she might be speaking with… lol!)

Norma Jean, Norma Jean…?

Norma Jean? Where are you?

I don’t know, I don’t know…?

But it’s a place where trees and flowers still grow.

Norma Jean, Norma Jean, I need more to go on.

How can I grab you, if I don’t know where to reach?

I don’t know, I don’t know…

But here the air is still breathable and the water is clean.

I even saw animals, and they were coexisting in peace.

Norma Jean, Norma Jean, I still can’t find you,

but I promised I would, and that I would rescue you.

I don’t know, I don’t know…

But if ever you do…

My question will be “who should be rescuing whom?”



Tomorrow doesn’t matter any more than does today…

My next breath isn’t worth as much as the one I’m currently taking…

Random thoughts pass through my mind


Like autumn leaves

in a breeze.

not entirely of my making.

A phone rings in the distance, not mine, but someone else’s…

I reach out to answer anyway, just in case it matters…

But it doesn’t, of course; it’s not for me

Just static on the line

Noisy silence in my mind


And lost in time.



Ever wonder where your limits are, just how much you can take?

Standing on the precipice, prepared to take the leap?

How many obstacles can you overcome?

How many sorrows can you shoulder?

How many more tears are left in you to cry?

How much more pain can you, yourself, endure?

Are there limits to what we do?

Or must we carry on, as we always have

making something out of nothing

because we simply can’t surrender?

*** *** ***

Standing on the brink myself

wishing I could jump.

But something keeps my feet planted

after the rest of me has given up.

It isn’t noble, selfless, vain or brave;

just ignorant, habitual and desperate.

If only I knew how…

to leave it all behind…

to go and test my limits

on another training ground…


”Caught Up in My Own Drama…”

Caught up in my own drama

a single person play

a solo performance

on a tiny little stage…

Writing, and rewriting, the dialogue

rearranging the scenes

so very little to work with

so very much to change…

Missing out on what’s around me

as I toil at my craft

convinced if I can get it “write”

the rest will fall in place…

Delusion, like fantasy, the dreamer’s media

presumptuous assumptions

those foundational mis-sumptions

guaranteed to lead one astray…

Yet here I am, complaining again

how nothing turns out “right”

when caught up in my own drama

directing the soul actor of my play…


I Am… Silence

I am… calm and still within

… thought-less and free.

There is Nothing here

but Silence.

That silence is empty and pure…

… a void that cleanses my spirit,

and brings me peace.

I am… sensing movement within

… form-less and vague.

A gentle stirring of Everything

without Sound.

That Soundlessness is full of potential…

… a spark igniting my spirit,

generating creativity.

I am… Stillness and Movement.

… thought-less and form-less.

… Nothing and Everything.

… peace and creativity.

I am… Silence.