As above, so below


Even looking at the ground I see bits of the universe
With its constellations strewn by me feet, reflecting, interpreting and expressing what they see above.
And even still my eyes see anomalies and exceptions to the rule.
Am I a mirror of something more than myself?
Am I part of the uniform
Or am I an anomaly?



The mist was thick, hazy and encompassing.
Little could be seen and plenty unknown.
The great void lay beyond and although I could not see it, it could be sensed.
In the dense haze at the world’s edge I realized I forgot much,
perhaps too much.
Such is the toll for living choices
And even though there were four main lights that night,
All it took was one to show me that I’m still afraid…

Tis the season…

I was asked what I would like for Christmas.
I shrugged my shoulders in silence, but my heart confessed loudly:

I want to share an electric night-time kiss
and see it shimmy on the water’s surface.
I want to feel the pull of her gaze on my eyes in a full room,
yet she is the only one I see.
I want to feel the spark of that touch that sets off every landmine under my skin
As if I were Braille and her fingertips read exactly the way I feel.
I want to see her thoughts in pictures
so I can decorate my mind’s wall with frames of her.
I want to lock hands like lips
and speak pieces of ourselves,
filling each other like red balloons
purposely let go by the hand of a child that knows only how to love.
I want to feel a delicate hand over the humming-bird beneath my chest,
that somehow calms me, yet causes the beating wings to beat even harder
yearning for escape
and it does.
I want to open the ribs of my cage and let the choruses of starlings sing,
just so the world around me can hear what love really sounds like.
I want that sound to infect others
like I was an un-zombie, kissing bits of humanity back into you.
And all this I want for everyone.

My mouth then opened and I replied:
“I would like a notebook to scribble down my thoughts.”

Wishing all the followers and occasional readers the safest and merriest of festivities as the year draws to an end. The bestest of wishes for you all.

Merriest Christmas (or however you like to celebrate the last days of the year)

The Observing Vessel




This weekend I dived into fists full of dirt and wind.
When I opened them I sensed glistening flecks of gold.
When I opened my eyes I realized I was one of them.
We all spoke,
blowing away more of the dirt.
The words spilt like water,
washing over us,
running down our golden bodies
And as dawn broke, we sat in the hands of the lake.
The light caught us and we all shone.



This is for you and all the other ghosts out there. The ones who drape themselves in beautiful qualities, making them unseen by the eyes of the living.
These qualities eventually render you invisible, but no less beautiful.
Let the eyes of the living ever search for what they can touch, taste, smell and hear while the beautiful ghosts find each other in fine mists and dense fog.
The ghosts can’t feel the tender touch of the living, which hurts, but only because they don’t wear the same invisible qualities.  They don’t like what they can’t see and it frightens them.
So I became a ghost, looking for others in the fine mists and dense fog.

An Ocean


If anything, life is a vast ocean. Constantly moving, swelling and crashing. And just like the weather doesn’t only affect one drop, it affects vast regions of ocean. You and I? We are the humble boats, luxury yachts and big corporate tankers. It matters not what you have as cargo. It can be two creatures in a boat with nothing more than raincoats and umbrellas. I’ve seen galleons and massive tankers succumb to violent storms only to be swallowed by the ocean, precious cargo and all. The wake the bigger vessels create, affects the others, especially the humble boats. They don’t care. They care too much for their precious cargo, even if it destroys them and this ocean we are all sailing.

So what is it that we are doing adrift this vast, endless ocean? I suspect to find dry land. A place to call home. A place that offers a little relief from the storms and sea-sickness. No doubt we will eventually get wet. That is life. A rain drop. A drop of ocean.
Why find steady shores? Well,for one, we cannot survive indefinitely at sea and I for one, find the wake of other vessels, both large and small and the unnecessary violent storms, are making me sea sick. The crests and troughs are making me vomit. Vomit from excitement, vomit from pain, vomit from love, vomit from the asshole corporate tankers creating unnecessary wakes in peaceful lakes and it makes me sick. Sometimes I want to drop anchor and feel my feet on solid ground. Feel the sand on my feet and try keep some food down before I empty myself and contract scurvy.
How very often the storms and wakes causes us to focus on the nausea, the ups and downs and the bailing of water from out our boat, that we rarely observe the nature of the weather itself. Eventually we will get drenched and not every storm can be avoided, but surely we can see the tell tale signs of those storms that can wreck our boats so we can make appropriate calls?

So what of life? There is no right answer, only lessons. I have learned not to become overly preoccupied with our boats, luxury yachts, tankers and cargoes. Interact with the ocean and appreciate the weather, sail the rough patches, get wet, avoid unnecessary storms and search for dry lands.
Be wary who you allow on-board and who you bail out water for. There are vessels out there that have holes in their hulls and yet their cargo is at capacity and all they seem to do on this ocean is continuously bail water from their boat and remain static and lost at sea. No time to search for land. No time for home.

Sail the oceans and seas, drop anchor in a lake, find that dry land and know that you leave a wake behind you.