CPoetry

the boisterous air fizzles and flits around the room like the freshly freed bubbles of a young champagne. while the others keep climbing the mountain with a happy, drunken gait--- i follow along--- all too aware that i have, again, stepped on that plateau. i have, again, faced the choice of making my summit, or stopping here and resting--- while they reach the top and kiss the stars. ::: every night for several years, i lit a candle before i sat quietly to find my stillness. it became my ritual. it became my symbol. this candle reflected my soul--- the eternal flame of being. ---or so i thought. on one such night, sitting in my stillness, i heard a voice ask me, "where is the light?" it repeatedly and patiently asked me, "where is the light?" until i began to ask myself. ~ every night, i sit quietly to find my stillness, but i have ceased to light the candle. ::: there a

the sun bowed and a soft rain accepted a dance, while i walked the path. sunflowers climbed on each others' shoulders trying to see what life had to bring. red and white roses were unfurling without rules underneath the canopy of the sunflowers' excitement. it was unusual to see all three flowers growing in the same place--- with the daytime stars reflecting in the sleepy sun's hues. but i believed it to be true; i believed sun and rain could be together in harmony. i, too, believed the same in faith, love, and hope. ::: for light, for love. for light, for love. each phrase repeated with each step i took. i walked and i was not alone. who followed in my shadow was six feet high, with a long, black cloak melting over broad shoulders. gloves hid the hands from the truth, and the eyes were dark brown. only the eyes i could see. for light, for love. for light, for love. "you will not determine my life."

"grandpop?" yes my boy. "why do you give things away? you have a lot of money, but you don't have a big house." well, i don't want to have a big house, and i like giving things to other people i care about. "but you give stuff to strangers too." you're absolutely right. i like doing that too. "why?" when there's been an opportunity, i've made it. "made it? isn't it, 'take it'?" yes, very good catch but i go one step further... i make something of the opportunity. "why?" my boy...God is  the opportunity, but we must be the opportun ists . it's so easy to take and take and take, but the best part is to take what you've been given and make it into something great. God will give you many opportunities in life, but it's up to you to not only take them, but make them. when i make them, i make them in my own  way. that's the beauty of it! in my way

it is our fears that are our true path to enlightenment; without fears, we would not know of the Place we are to find behind the veil of Progress. ::: Resiliency is nothing more than the stamina of the soul. ~ as children, we are close to our feet, and the steps we take conquer all in stride. as adults, we are visually impaired at seeing our feet, and the steps we take appear to fail all in stride. squat down to see your feet again--- to see at once the distance you believed in yourself before. ::: the Soul: an eternal flame that melts the wax of time. ::: our diseases manifest from our own Inhibited Truths. ::: it brings me deep assurance to know the thunder clouds and clapping lightening are measly insects booming and sparkling through the vast sky of my true, pure consciousness. ~ a storm can never be the sky; a thousand storms, even, are simply swa

the other day there upon me my eyes due laid. riding the back kissing the wind be a willow spray. outside of here all else before my fight due stayed. pushing against standing so firm my strength cease to fray. until now is to know again born new is today. riding the back kissing the wind i am willow spray. ::: do not be the fish who swims in oil. be that fish who swims higher--- nearer to the surface; be that fish who again breathes water! ::: amongst the black coats, black scarves, black gloves, black ties, and black shiny shoes is the one whom cannot cry for he is joyful. he whispers, "You my friend are free. Truly free." ::: born to be the fastest animal on this living planet, the peregrine falcon does not know its level of speed. it does not know of its cone-shaped nostrils to help it breathe at high velocity. it does not know it has both long and short sight vision