Lucidity

Upon the edge of reason,

Is such a Sublime Joke that teeters,

For how strange to awaken in your own dream,

(Even though you may be resting beneath the

Pines, the Oaks & Cedars);

Indeed, it is a theme any storyteller

Could hardly convey to their own readers!

As you immortally mingle,

(Your body aglow in a single, all-containing tingle)

Joyfully at play,

Within Lucidity's revolving theatre!

Like the sunlit waves upon the indigo keys,

And the herbs that are steeping in a honeyed tea,

Lucidity may become the gateway,

Into a wealth of remedial resplendency;

For, in the glee of lucidity,

Where wakefulness exists in both reality and dream,

The two cease to be separated

By what once did divide (but now implies),

A mutual connectivity!

As everything speaks of everything else,

And turns the world into a swirl

Of fine, resplendant analogies;

Many things may seem symbolic

In their inherent connectivity,

Especially if lucidity should continue,

Beyond your nightly dreams,

(And you should tread beneath the trees,

Where White and Red, and Ponderosa Pines,

Lead into an arbortorium

Of your own creative energy),

You may see the flight of a crow

Or eagle, being more than what your

Mind might imagine it to be;

For between the seams of reality and dream,

All carry their own secrets, now intuitively perceived...

Is it here that we find ourselves,
Immersed and enmeshed in Lifes' unfolding dance?
As much as the planets and the Mothers' children,
Uncoiling like the springly, sunkissed plants?

For what a whirling motion the Presence,
Will unfurl if we, the dreamer, might intone
Our own, revelous poems,
And reverant chants;

Unfurling pearls of wisdom
Where they had once been clasped,
Loosened in Luciditys' lubrication
That our own Love may graciously give
And in glowing praise, grant!

Over our own thin skins,
The Artists' paint will glide and dance!
For having been made the Spirits' canvas,
Fluidity forever flows across our brows,
And flits like fragrances
Loosed from pine tree stands;

And as our own artistic brushes
Gush with ancient lore and ever-present love
(As if the well of Being, itself,
Is our own bottomless paint can)

Our dancing feet may be sweet percussion,
And our songs may ring as sweetly as the thrushes',
As our intuitive selves are unshelled
Allowing what was once contracted to continue to expand!

Creativity In A Conchshell

------------

Emanating forth

In a swirling swell,

Advancing, in all things dancing,

From fairy folklore, misty moors, and fels;

Perhaps Rivendell, itself

Was in the spell,

As places that once, only words could tell,

Now leapt to life, as would smoke from pipes,

Flit and drift ripe with intoxicating smells;

And arising in such billowing boundlessness,

As if from the hollow of an unseen well,

Perhaps it is the ocean you hear, when you place your ear

To the mouth of a conch or seashell,

Swirling and forming pearls,

And dancing in a spiral curl, if, indeed, so compelled!

For perhaps such a magic body, lives within each fantastic form,

And echoes long after its waves are first dispelled...

From Restful Providence

From restful providence,

Shines your own Sun-like sense of Self,

Announcing that You Are what You Are,

You Are the Spirit's living wealth;

And the providence that's been lent,

Throughout the changing tides of health,

You have remained as that eternal, timeless glow,

That shines through joy hereafter felt!

For although sorrow may be borrowed,

From the illusion of time,

Timelessly alive, inside,

A smile forever resides,

Glowing! Like the Sun,

Shimmering upon all the waves,

Of Life's advancing, receding,

Tides of change;

In the providence of Now,

As prismatic hues emphatically ensue,

Imbuing resplendence to every bough;

A glimmer upon both gray and green is found

To come into your own view;

And in rhythm with this completeness beyond division,

Everything, beneath the Sun, is born anew,

Holding space for life's unfolding pace,

You will see, that you are forever Free,

In this grace worth attuning to!

For, indeed amazing emanations may arise,

With the subtlety of silken lace,

As though illumined by a light in this depthless place,

Our own presence, one with This Grace;

So, in joy, I leave you to your own discovery,

Here, from the heart of this ethers' space;

A bounty that is freely owing,

It's sublime streams of ecstasies

To the Self who lives behind your face!

Rootboundless Beauty

------------------------------

Indeed, as all the roots and flowery flutes,

Softly shoot into the air,

All that grows will signal such a flair,

That only comes when you love all of life

Beyond contrast and beyond compare;

And in all the Sunlight, arrayed in shades,

That such a staring Eye would wear,

Indeed, the meager becomes the mighty,

And Truth will grace all towards which

You express your heartfelt care;

And all these bursts & flares will not close your eyes,

Nor spill tears in such a glare,

For they will be but the bedazzling ravelling,

Of Celestial light 'pon a modest pear;

As fruits fall freely from the Tree of Life,

In as many forms, as the opposites all pairing, share,

In this world you've come to see,

In all is rootboundless beauty,

Freely felt and seen as fair;

They revolved around the fires' light,

Their hearts were all a-glow,

As springly as the spritely spriggans,

They seemed as fresh as fallen snow;

They touched their feathered feet,

To the moss and peet,

And ever did they know,

The Pleasing meter of all the seasons,

And the way they together flowed!

As the music of the ministrel seemed to sing,

From 'neath the Forest floor;

They were bestowed a bounty that's far surmounting,

Any sound they've heard before,

And as many a prancing, pounding foot was put

To dance upon the moor,

Heathes like islands,

Were styled to the theme

Of evergreen shores of yore;

At a glance, it was emancipation,

Advancing in circles cast,

By hands who've come to shape the lands,

In stones that will outlast;

And when all is said,

And all is done,

And many souls in circles spun,

And many cheers have banished fears,

And made the shadows run;

There will be gliding,

Slip and sliding upon the grass where waters' hiding,

In the moss where life is biding,

The setting of the Sun,

And echoing on is the laughter,

Reaching towards the celestial rafters,

That frame the ceiling, thus revealing,

The bounty of the One;

Where in twinkling garb,

The orbs are barbed,

In points of glowing light,

Inciting many mystic musings,

And rare, untouched delights;

And in spite of all, the olden call,

Is still alive and truly well,

For it is not older,

No less bolder,

Than the hearts in which it dwells;

And if the joy and mirth,

Was measured,

In all the treasures of the Earth,

Could it truly be substantiated,

In all the forms the formless births?

For if joyous belts,

Of Laughter spelt,

Wordless reveries as heavenly,

As all the pious knelt;

Then surely one would be so gracious

As to explore for one's own self,

The presence and the unending eminance

Now toasted in good cheer and health!

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With such light in your own eyes,
As would befit the unfurling flowers,
You may see the grace of all things based
Within this providence and power,

And if you should rise up and see the world,
Like an astrologist from their observatory tower,
You may see the sweetest flavors
Share space (and accentuate the taste),
Of all the bitters and the sours;

For such a gracious theme,
Imbues our hearts and minds
With such living vitality,
The entire world is taken,
And absolved within our own awakening;

And so gracious it is,
That it does not seek to render us blind,
To the harder truths of reality,
Nor encourage us to ignore the fact,
That the sweetest fruits, often sway,
Upon the furthest limbs
Of the fruiting tree!

Fear not! For, in no way,
Does it limit what is possible,
To see into the makings of this wild, wooded wonder,
Arrayed in its glade and grove-laden gospel;

That speaks in the rock,
From where the moss you pulled,
Is peeling like a revealing skin,
You've shed along all the trails
You've since tracked and treading, tilled;

For indeed, open to all the pleasures and the pains,
The sunlit glories and the impending rains,
The world is unfurling, as sure as buds uncurling,
Speak of Life and Death the same;

And where one imbues the another,
And gives our Life its defining frame,
Our opened heart, may see such art,
In both the things we love
And those we fear to entertain;

Letting loose the secrets of the Universe
In al the splendor of rivers, forests, and streams;
The steps you, yourself, have travelled,
Will surely unwind and unravel,
Such revelatory reams

For, indeed, at the heart
Of this theme, in all the things divinely deemed,
The light and the dark will bear their mark
In all the gleaming glories,
(And the seeming stark),
You encounter as you awaken within your dream!

And if your footfall grows light
(Perhaps like flitting nymphs,
That come from places in-between),
Or should fall heavy, 'neath the guiding light
So shrouded, where once it seemed to beam;

Know that all is in divine order,
When in its proper perspective, all is seen,
For, acceptance is the message,
That yields, from the shrouds of fear,
A glowing, guiding lanterns' gleam!