4 Untitled Poems

July 30, 2015

A curse was laid upon this soul
that I must fix everything.
Oh! What it’s like to see how
it could all be better.
Do this to be rich and famous,
that for people to take notice.
He could be more kind by
knowing such.
She more attractive by
being thus.

Worst of all is when judgement
is passed on me.
Am I really that way?
Need I be anything at all?

I feel that I am nothing,
empty of anything.
What is there to fill this container?
Where is whoever I am now?
To ask for help when I know
not what I want or need,
this seems to be my place.
But, even if something is given,
how do I know to receive?
How to know anything?

Trees are wisest, they stand tall,
waiting, watching all that passes them by.

July 27, 2015

Springing forth from the Unknown, a
simple spawning of illumination spreads.
Grace helps a seedling break its
shell, otherwise the light would never
find fruition.
Within is a dark place, boundless
mystery, how can it be seen?
Does a seed already know its
destiny’s manifestation?

Timing is everything for the time-
bound, but what about that which
isn’t?

Emotion can last an instant, yet feel
as eternal as the stars.
Then, eternity fades away, leaving
behind the supernova.

Life evolves, spreading webs
through the brain of existence,
alternating from the eternal back to
the time-bound.
Sensitivity to the present instant
floods our bodily totality, just
with the simplicity of gazing at
a flower.
What else really exists in such a
moment? Is this love?

A seeker’s guide to heaven: find love,
right now.
Rare is the soul capable of touching
the nature of this sensitivity, just
for itself alone.
Most seek it in a particular, in the
glory of a triumphant performance, in
pleasure of lustful fulfillment, in
dispatching the fool’s ignorance, in
stuffing ourselves with the false notion
that we aren’t in poverty.

True triumph, true fulfillment, true
intelligence and riches come from
understanding the poverty
of our own self-knowledge. To see
the lack of a purpose, a destination,
an individual self at all, can
bring us back to this eternal
moment in everything that exists.

“As above, so below,” the saying goes.
The Golden Eternity is nothing at all.
How can love be seen through the
terror and suffering of the world?
How can I love myself when the
blinds shielding my own pain and
suffering are raised?
Perhaps this is a question we all
face in time, in order for the timeless
to be planted at last.

July 28, 2015

Woe is self-pity talking me
down from sharing these thoughts on
just how beautiful you are.
Eons have passed since gazing upon
those mesmerizing brown eyes, pulling
towards the gravity of what could
have been.
Repressed feelings of insecure mind
and body own this petty existence,
penetrating the core of uncertain love.

Locked in a dimensional
singularity, the layers ad infinitum
of Gaia’s Heart will never be pierced.
Sol Father only shows the
possibility of a wicked imagination,
a rose with no flower, only thorns.

How is the strength to be wholly
ourselves, come to manifest?
Perhaps some things just aren’t
meant to be, perhaps we are the
last to know why things happen
as they do.
All I know is that in this instant,
there is nothing I’d like more
than to be mesmerized once again,
by your deep brown eyes.

Forgotten/Unknown Date

Life for Loving is Bold.
Such Love penetrates.
Such Love pervades.

Potentiality darkening,
yet in darkness, Light.

Entangled in the Web,
I can either imagine falsity,
or embrace vibrant fangs.

To embrace what is given,
Love shines bright.
It is only in imperfection
that perfection shows.

Spontaneity, creatively exuberant
moment after moment.
Watching, I Know.
Knowing, I Watch.

Confusion strikes the Eternal.
Existence is unsure of itself.
This is why I Love.
Love is why I Exist.