Before Dawn

Churning images of carousels,
misty barges and masked intent
have me away from tostled bed
to sheets of blank invitation.

Now before the flickering light
of soon needless lantern glow
I whisper to the shadows ...

SWAYING
IN THE BREEZE OF ME

Within the swaying balance of dilution --
by which we judge our attention to presence
in this manifest Agreement and Covenant,
we may choose to heed our mind, soul or spirit.

Yet our mind is embroiled in sorting drivel,
our soul effected by compassion and heart song,
while spirit plays with memories of escape.

Do not despair this dissipation of purpose,
nor bemoan or decry the ‘human condition’;
for this actually is the answer not the question!

Why else would free-wheeling sparks of EverLight
Choose to pay fine attention to this vibration
Except to embrace chaos, loneliness and fear?

As Source is of every thought and by thought birthed,
the contemplation of confused non-order
Is enough to engender here and now profoundly.

So it is time to enjoy the carnival rides –
to experience doubt and thrills – awe and panic,
and to choose to be what has never been before.

Risk your fortune on the arcade – or test your skill,
play cotton-candy dreams and fortune teller schemes,
or view contorted selfs in the hall of mirrors.

Just remember that it is all a game called life,
which has nothing to do with divinity or truth;
nothing gained by looking behind the curtain.

For there is a safety net made of loving strands
That allows that you will return to innocence
With no judged measure of what may happen here.

The only effect of your brief passing here –
is in the range of choices you may make in turn,
as your universe expands by this Attention.

Each fellow trav’ler in this irksome, bustling crowd
Is not a competitor for some splendid prize,
But a wealth of wonder you may never have.

Do it all your self and suffer every pain –
perhaps choose to comeback every now and then;
knowing that there is a simpler way to know of life.

That stranger you ignore there may have climbed your hill,
And know of secret springs and hidden berry vines,
And will readily give a hand across the shaky bridge.

Oops, that analogy was from my last journey here
and all you have to do is help a teary child
climb aboard a swing and fore-give a push or two.

papa