page 10

candles is what we are,

with our skin, the wax holding its own,
but the miracle is our softness;

the miracle of candles is in our ability to
melt.

let the fire of your worries and demons
catch on the wick inside.

 the wick is not there for your happiness.

watch what occurs.
watch the burning.

 this burning only happens in the presence.

a voice says, Endure it!
keep burning. keep hurting.

hurt more. a greater joy lies in the heat of the flame
that laughs in its conversation with the wick.

keep burning. keep hurting.
hurt again, hurt more until darkness.

suddenly, a fragrance within smoke---

heat lost, conversation stopped,
this whisking away in the light lost.

sweet release.

sweet freedom.

f o    r     e g  i  v    n   es        s.



:::

sit on the shelf as a piece of ceramic.
stay there and collect dust.

be used, be filled, be poured by others.

be involved in celebrations, intimate wine tastings,
and stand as you are until held and needed again.

keep doing this--if it is what you wish for in life;

whomever molded, shaped, and curved you 
never had that intention.

the pottery master made you to be fragile,
to crack, to break, to create a shattering noise

that reminds others of the joy found
outside of limitations.


:::


the rolling in the babbling of the brooke
is by way of the rocks that moves it.

the roundness in the rocks
is by way of the babbling brooke that smooths them.

these two parts that make the other make one.
that is whole.

that is love.


:::


are you in love?

Well, yes. I am in it all the time.

no, but with someone else?

Absolutely, reflections of me.

you can't be in love with yourself.

Of course you can. If you accept what is always given to you.

look, i want you to tell me, are you in love for someone else?

Sure.

who is it?

Who I need to be or be not.

then who do you need to be or be not?

That depends on love.

what kind of love do you want?

The kind that is.




:::


i am afraid i have stumbled upon a mirror.
one i never looked into,

but a mirror i have a knowing about;

a knowing misunderstood in writing,
but only known of in the moment.




Comments

Post a Comment

Most Viewed

page 73

the woman said to the pairs of eyes standing around her, I am quite excited for this travel. My clothes are new, my satchel is full, and my shoes are taut and unweathered. can't we accompany you? asked one of the eyes. I am afraid you cannot. You are all nomads. I, however, am an explorer. There is a difference, and I cannot say how one becomes an explorer. whilst the eyes looked around dejected and angry, a young pair of eyes without shoes, hung filthy clothes, and a deprived stomach, moved her hand quietly over her heart. seeing this action, the explorer smiled at the young eyes from the corner of her mouth, sat up, and turned to a new direction to travel. she announced confidently, Do not worry! Some of you will...and have realized... how to truly explore. ::: after magnifying the wings of a butterfly one day, a biochemist nearly lost her head at what she saw; the pigments were segmented into parts. not like feathers, not like...
Read more

page 1

to lose sense of time looking into their black eyes. must they always be sore with neck pain? purple stamen. dark, royal purple. everything feels lighter in this room; the lamps fess up: We have fewer volts to carry now  because of them. seven yellow faces of God. they proclaim, We never stop faith-ing. ::: other people are simply reflections of you. make wedding vows with those you meet. no! not really! do not be literal, but say this inside: "i met you,   for better or worse. " "i met her, in sickness and in health. " "i met him, till death due us part ." in your mind, marry everyone; make a commitment with everyone--- family, friends, neighbors, strangers. bond wholly; like bubbles on top of bath water,   and divorce any part of yourself that does not serve you anymore. ::: down the river. i am one paddle. You are the other; my face is constantly submerged and choking ...
Read more

page 69

there are friends who comfort us during the thunderstorm. but then there are friends who comfort us during the thunderstorm--- and shelter us from the rain and cover our ears from the noise and ask us if we are ok after the storm passes. cherish those friends who both experience the thunderstorm and wait until the sky returns to peace. a thunderstorm stands no chance against a lighting-love that strikes before  thunder welds a single decibel. ::: when we convince ourselves we cannot overcome the pains of our past, it is as if we are bees who have punctured ourselves with our own stinging-needle. lying on our backs and crushing our wings, there is a field that is not being pollinated. flowers are starving. their nectar is growing sour. in the midst of our pain, we attempt to fly into water, into a soda can, into anything to help us heal. supposedly, there was such a bee who stung herself so badly she could not even fly from the...
Read more