Poetry, Reflections

“You’re Alive?!”

“You’re alive?!” are the words most often spoken when the silence first breaks in my shadowed nook.

“So it would seem…,” my auto-response, offered with less certainty and sincerity than it looks.

“Where have you been?,” is always the next logical question.

But if we’re being rational, you might better ask, “when?”

“When have I been spending my time?”

“Why I’ve been searching the timelines, every now and then.

“Looking for… Some… thing, I guess, I can’t even define.”

“Are you well?,” they inquire with all good intent.

“I am coping,” I respond; of this much I am certain.

“Coping?… Just coping? Is that the best you can say?”

“Coping…. Yes, coping. I think that’s enough for today.”

Were you expecting some wisdom? Some enlightenment? Some hope?

Of those I have little, so it’s best just to “cope.“

Too many voices screaming in outrage…

Too many hearts bleeding in pain…

Too many slaves trying to escape all at once…

Too many Masters clamping down in response!

The world is trembling and tilting too much

Routine is my goal despite wrenching my guts!

Do you suppose there is some sort of cosmic Dramamine?

To help ease this motion sickness of universal unraveling…

Not that I’ve found yet, and I’ve been every-when

Searching for… some…. thing beyond my limited perception.

For Truth? Or escape? More likely Relief…

Something to ease this perpetual grief.

But, alas, it eludes me, this means to end suffering.

And my Master is calling my name once again.

Best get up and go while the going is still possible

Let delusion be my guide in this sea of impass-ibles.

“See you later,” I toss over my shoulder when leaving.

“Or not…,” I whisper to myself, expecting nothing

“You’re alive?!,” echoes softly as the silence creeps in

“Am I really?,” I have to ask my Self once again.

“Is this reality…? This existence… all that there is?

Or is Life itself just a ghost in a mirror?

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.




When the Earth erupts in flame and fire

I shall stand and burn.

When the Earth is washed with deep flood waters

I shall stand and drown.

When the Earth is shaken to its core,

a trap of stone and rubble,

I shall stand and dance.

When the Earth is cleansed with winds of change,

cyclonic storms that rupture and rend,

I shall stand and breathe.

When all that I have ever known is gone and lost forever,


and only then…

to the flow of Time I shall at last surrender

and still be Me…


** Offered in response to the poetry challenge from Cafe Philos…