Category: Poetry

What is the Problem?

The problem is not sleep or awakening
The problem is identification
But it is not a problem
It is an illusion
A story told by a small part which has tensed up
See the illusion and the tension will relax

My difficulty is that this tensing and story telling is a strong habit
While one tense part is relaxing
Another is already tensing
See, relax …
But it is not a difficulty
It is living

See, relax, see, relax, see, relax …

The above comes from a tense part’s story

See, relax, see, relax, see, relax, be, see, relax …

We Eddies

We are like eddies of the great ocean
Floating in our source and being.
Brushing across fellow gyres,
We share drops of ourselves,
Taste each other’s knowing,
Recognize our source.
Those more tightly wound
Throw off disturbances;
Those more relaxed
Absorb disturbances and
Ease their neighbors’ tension.
All are of, by and for the great ocean.
Believing we have independence
We search for satisfaction among
The flotsam and fellow eddies of the vastness.
Ignorant that it is our source, space and material.
When the energy driving our gyrating runs down
We begin to relax and taste our essence
Which we float in.
Happiness is found in recognition that we are
the ocean, it is ourself and
All eddies share, and are, our source and material.

Dream Characters

Characters in a dream know each other,
While the dreamer is unknown to them.
Characters play their roles perfectly,
They have no choice.

Characters see things,
Love, lose, long, leave.
And look, for their dreamer.

I wish,
I try,
I practice,
I see
The dream of the dreamer.

Is this the end?
What of realization? Awaking up?
Characters are always just characters.

Like the fish, who after being pulled out of the water and then returned, suddenly knows it is in water,
The character is sometimes shocked into knowing it exists.
But it interprets this knowing from the dream character, which thinks it has awakened.
Characters are always just characters.

When the nature of the dream is seen,
It is the dreamer who sees.

Tobias Blessed

Everything is fine

Everything is fine.
Whatever happens is what must happen.
Mentality doubts,
Question, imagines possibilities.
Everything is as it must be.
See, be present, honor a Master:
Goodness incarnate.
Yet, uncarnate Goodness is Goodness.
Everything is fine.
I want, I desire, I would, I should:
Disruptions happen.
Everything is fine.

Do I Lie?

Do you think, or
Are you thought, or
Are you thoughts?
Are you caught?

Do you breath, or
Are you breath, or
Are you breathed?
Is there death?

Do you age, or
Do you climb, or
Are you always?
Is there time?

Do I lie, or
Do I rhyme, or
Do I hide
Behind thoughts on line?

The Crucifixion

Jesus died on the cross
And become Christ
At the hand of the Romans,
Who were ignorant.

Jesus first died
In baptism
At the hand of John
Who understood.

Jesus died by his own hand –
Gathering Fishermen,
Raising Lazarus,
Walking on Water,
On the Mount
Giving a sermon.

These were not by choice,
He protested,
“My time has not yet come.”
Then died.

The cross stands for Jesus’ story.
Yet, the cross is always and everywhere.
May these words mark a cross accepted.
Finish now.
Another is prepared with your next breath.

Everything is Nothing

Everything is Nothing.
Nothing is everything.
Everything in Nothing.
Nothing in Everything

“Nothing comes from nothing,”
Some mockingly say.
To reorient ignorance, we say,
“Nothing neither comes nor goes.”

Love and Nothing,
Identical twins,
Preside over and inundate
The pantheon of everything.

Love and Nothing,
The heart of everything,
And everybody,
Overflow continually.

See and feel
Your true heart
Shared by everybody and everything,
Overflowing everywhere.

To Die or Simply Fade Away

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, еxcept a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, еxcept a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”

Some call it separate self,
Some ego.
Some, “What the hell are you talking about, this is who I am!”

For those who feel that something is amiss
Who hear the prophets’ warning as their gist
They look for the culprit now and then
Catching glimpses of impermanence within
But with each glance it vanishes
Replaced by claims of vanquishes.

The game continues with now and then
Becoming more and less
With warnings becoming mindfulness
And vanishings becoming emptiness
Vanquishes, “The quiet space within.”

So, is death due for the prideful one
Or quiet fading like last night’s dreams?
Is there one which could die,
Or many which evaporate, as
With thanks to the sun,
Does the puddle in the afternoon.

For any who know, let them know.
For those who are wondering,
Best keep wandering,
Appreciating the game,
Of sacred to-and-fro.

Our Favorite Italian Dinner Table

Peace in a lively dining spot.

Quiet fills the room
A woman sits still
At the corner of the bar
The nondescript tender
Is lost in a dream
From the end of the bar
A patron stares at the same spot as his neighbor.
Setting the overall tone
A man stands, hands in pockets
Looking out the window.
Dry silence here in is seductive.
Heavy strokes enhance allurement.
We sit in a lively room at its feet.
For an after-dinner drink,
Let’s step into the quiet.