The taste
and texture of light
depends upon intent,
like greens
in grass or rainbow
can differ in focus and bent:
the taste
of the Northern Lights
is a gentle herbal blend,
steeped in the Arctic Sea
and drunk with a Faery friend.
Lost – it seems –
in life
and dreams,
in here
and now,
in thoughts and schemes;
lost,
or not,
I have the key –
the Path
is patient
and waits
for me.
Fingerprint
of mountain stream
in the breathing
of forest leaves
and mossy blankets –
a misty dream
of the western sea
in the earliest sunbeam,
in the song of crickets.
Call now… who replies?
See the answer in the skies:
Noonday sun illumines true
the cirrus sanskrit etched in blue.
Twists of purple and gray
dance across the sky:
A “Bon Voyage” to the day –
you know, we never die –
Embroidering the edges
of evening’s woolly shawl
Cast beyond the ledges
of the windows in the Hall.
I drank the blue of a rainbow –
twas salty, like the sea –
I drank the blue of a rainbow,
and tasted the Myst in me.
sunrise misting lifting
from eastern lake
quake rippling
across galactic starways
far aways you are
but i can touch your whisper
with a smile
and for a while
know your heart.
Mystic labyrinths of morning
Daylight touches the Source
Hummingbird pauses by the Gateway
Tea? Irish Breakfast, of course.
Playing shaman chess
is like navigating
a multidimensional labyrinth
with mystical hidden stairways
and spiraling faery rings...
accessed only when cognition
and ego are abandoned.
You can tell how blue the sky is
by the tone of its voice
And the texture of its touch upon the trees –
Sometimes it just disguises
the color of its choice
By brushing wisps of clouds across the breeze.
Where do the colors come from
that whisper from your heart
and fill the room
when you are with me?
Not even the rainbow echoes
such songs as flow from you
in colors that bloom
with such intensity...
the touch of your aura
healing and dancing
within my solstice moon;
you trace my lifeline
in sunsets and springtime:
colors resolving the chord
of my cat-on-a-back-fence tune.
Where the mind wanders tonight,
I think the corridors have wandered more;
beyond all reasoning light,
beyond the last known and charted shore...
How strange the markings here,
as if- without thinking -I stepped too far;
beyond the end of the pier,
beyond the ledge and onto a neighboring star...
Would that I showed you the way,
and you followed for naught but love of me;
I wonder what you might say,
if I said that I'd followed a bumblebee.
Difficult to say
what's real and what is dream;
and even harder to know
if I am all I seem;
what madness comes to play
when loosened from the rein;
should I allow it so?
And should I then remain?
Would that I could touch you,
gentle woman of my heart,
touch you deep with soft-sung passion,
paint your soul with sacred art...
Would that I could show you
love unbounded, light and free;
drawing deeply from my spirit,
I would give you all of me.
Have you ever drunk of a Rainbow,
Or eaten of its bread,
Wandered its sacred hallways
Or walked upon its thread,
Conversed with Spirit deeply
Or danced within its Fire?
Have you ever drunk of a Rainbow,
And not been lifted higher?