Beyond the world of discovery that music has been for me, there was always the bigger world, the universe of questions about what we’re a part of, how it works, and how to best fit into the larger whole.

My love of words, a fascination with scientific, philosophical, and spiritual inquiry, and a quiet determination to learn how to be a better human (and a happier man) have led me on a path of shaping my experience, breath by breath, into poems.

Here are some of them.

Regret and Forgiveness

October 23, 2018

In all these years
of striving to be human,
I have caused myself
no end of suffering,
needlessly repeating
the doubts and fears
born of an overactive mind.

I regret the pain
I have caused myself,
and I forgive myself
for causing it.

Regret and forgiveness
are my blessings.

Without regret,
I would forget
that all my suffering
need never have been,
if I had seen
that it was all my own creation.

And without forgiveness,
I would forget
that I have always been worthy
of the peace that comes
when doubts and fears dwindle,
and the suffering ceases.

Back To Emptiness

October 23, 2018

Sometimes I hear arguments
inside my head,
and I wonder:
“Who are these people,
and how did they get in here?”

They are only passing thoughts,
of course,
but, over time,
they grow louder,
more solid and real,
the more I believe in them.

When I stop to watch and listen,
I am like the viewer
of a pointless movie,
wondering how and why
I gave my time and energy
to such flimsy fictions.

And when I see myself
watching from a peaceful place,
I lose interest in their noisy clamor,
and they seem to fade away,
back to the emptiness
from which they came.

Being Alive

October 2, 2018

I am consciousness;
I move around a lot.

Sometimes
I am human,
or I’m a dog or a cat,
a rat, or a rock.

As I move from form to form,
I don’t remember what it’s like
to look through each pair of eyes,
or feel what each body feels.

All I remember
is how rich it is
to be alive,
and how grateful I am,
just to be.

The Magic of a Misty Moon

October 1, 2018

That smudge against the night
is probably the moon,
or maybe it’s something
far more mysterious,
perhaps a thing of myth.

I know it is the moon,
and yet its magic,
splashed across the sky,
is not diminished
by my knowing.

What I experience
and what I know
are the stuff
of two different worlds,
and that, in itself,
is the greater magic.

The Peace Within

September 28, 2018

The peace we seek
comes from within.

There is nothing we can do,
nothing we can create,
and nothing we can attract,
that will bring peace to us.

Until we see the peace within,
there will be no peace for us.

There will only be frustration,
and the lingering hope
that peace will come
from outside us,
where it has never been,
and never will be.

The Law of Attraction

September 28, 2018

You can not become
what you wish you were
until you realize
that it is what
you already are.

The Search

September 27, 2018

We are always searching
for the truth of what we are
in what we can perceive,
when, in truth,
the essence of what we are
is that which perceives it all.

Being Empty

September 27, 2018

So many times
throughout my life,
I have felt this emptiness,
wondering what was missing,
fearful of my lack.

Slowly,
I am seeing
that this emptiness
is the absence
of all that holds me back,
that keeps me
from being myself.

I have never needed anything
beyond what I am.

My Mind Likes To Travel

September 26, 2018

My bank account may not permit
a trip to foreign places,
but I can send my mind away
to new and peaceful spaces.

My thoughts are like a road I take
to the world I live inside,
and how I guide or follow them
is my birthright to decide.

I could send myself to the gates of Hell,
if I gave my thoughts their play,
or sit in bliss in my own heaven,
if I send my mind that way.

We can travel the earth
in search of relief
from the pain of our daily grind,
or follow the path
to our heart of hearts,
and find our peace of mind.

This Brief Snippet

September 25, 2018

Mountains of meaningless malarky
meander through my mind
as I sail the sea
of my imagined identity.

“I am none of this!”, I say,
as I drift past each scene of my history,
and yet, each picture has its poignant pull,
its sense of “This is me!”

These are powerful dreams,
the memories that define me,
when I am asleep
and in their grip.

In my waking moments,
they grow cloudy,
evanescent,
yet still redolent with meaning.

They are the tapestry
that this story of “me”
is woven from,
the fabric of my life,
the movie I watch
for as long as I am here.

I am not the story,
not the movie,
but I am the grateful viewer
of all of this
as it plays out,
in this brief snippet of eternity,
before my wondering eyes.