page 15

it is difficult to hear the conversations
Queens, Kings, and Jacks have inside the box.

this time, though, they spoke loudly enough
so i could listen:

King of Spades: So what do we do about this then?

 Jack of Diamonds: We seek what makes it precious.

 Queen of Clubs: But what does it mean to be precious?
How can we feel it?

 King of Clubs: There is no way of knowing the "how".

 Jack of Hearts: He's right, all you know is The Way.

 Queen of Diamonds: Explain this further.

 Jack of Hearts: The Way is like that of water through rock,
stars through sky, heat through air, blood through vein,
sun rays through leaf cells.

 Jack of Spades: Jack, you have left this unfinished.
It is also fire from oil spill, death by weaponry,
poverty by ignorance, divorce by words-unspoken.

 King of Hearts: May I include this? The Way is
full. Circle with no beginning and no end.

 Queen of Spades: But how it is precious?

 King of Spades: The seeking itself.

 King of Hearts: The seeking is what is precious
because what we seek is anything but precious.

 Jack of Hearts: Something precious is something valued and rare.
The Way is valued but never rare.

 Queen of Hearts: We seek what doesn't need precious seeking?

 Jack of Clubs: Ace of Spades, please tell us, how do we seek
The Way?

 Ace of Spades: Forget your seeking. How you find The Way
is within. My apologies, I used another seeking word--"find".
Do not seek what cannot be sought. Do not find what is always found.
Be as you are and The Way will simply encompass you.

:::


God comes through the writing
of a left-handed man after his right-handed years;

unbeknownst--
a raindrop that remembers its wetness,

a dessert that remembers its expanse,
a cheetah that remembers its idleness,

a clock that remembers its gears,
a train that remembers its clinking brakes,

a rainbow that remembers its connection,
a tailor that remembers the needle point,

a wine glass that remembers its opening.

i watch the gradual epiphany
that occurs in this man's third eye--

unveiled from the blindfold.

a lift in the tone of voice.
a smile in the tone of heart.


:::


marbles in a jar
that is heavy in my hands;

bare the ego-weight,
and i bare the consequences;

stay contained and i constrain further.
tip, pour, and disperse and i become

a spill of rolling

free.  . . .  .... free...... . . .  . . .    .. . freeeee freeeeeee.. .. ...
freeeee freeee.......... . ......

freeee.. . ..... free ...free ..... .... .. ... . ..free
freee. .. ..... freeeeeee. . . .. .. . . .... freeeeeeeee.

the glass jar accepts a tipped-over defeat
because it begins rolling too.

all of sudden, it believes its a marble.

free.







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