We are born big,
born of Spirit,
and we have always known this.

Born into little bodies,
we learn to think small,
becoming less than we were
(and we have always known that).

Straining at our boundaries,
we yearn for more,
as if there were a greater world
(which we have always known).

Exploring the borders
of our own conceptions,
we break through;
we are home,
in a place we have always known.

Words
build the pathways
that our thoughts can follow,
and our thoughts,
with time,
create our experience.

Who am I?

I am the invisible,
who sees the visible.

I am the intangible,
who feels the touch
of the tangible.

I am the silence,
who hears
what can be heard.

As I strive
to stay connected
with this web I live in,
caught up
in the give and take
of information,
the creature I think of
as “my cat”
jumps up on my laptop,
claiming it
as his temporary home,
content to be
the center
of my attention.

Cut off from reports
of recent happenings,
unable
to communicate my views,
I am nailed to this moment,
contemplating this being
who shares my home,
and reminds me,
time and again,
to live
in the present.

When galaxies collide,
is there chaos,
or is there union?

In the short run,
there is chaos;
in the long run,
union.

And so,
when two people
join their lives,
pulled by attraction,
then, as they commingle,
there are a million moments
of conflict and confusion,
slowly dissolving,
with the winding down of entropy,
as their differences dissolve.

As the progeny
of this union,
I am cursed
and blessed,
sorting out
the subtle differences,
befuddled and amazed,
aghast and grateful,
at this evolution
of being.

As we look out at the world,
how much of what we see
is blurred and clouded
by the artifacts of seeing?

Through the mind’s eye,
filtered and quantized,
do we only see
what we expect,
or can understand?

Do we look
as through a scanner,
darkly,
filling in
each missing pixel
with memory,
hope, or fear?

Or can we look more deeply,
seeing how we see,
the forest and the trees,
the picture and the pixels?

Only through this inner eye
can we learn to see
both worlds,
the world inside,
and the world around us.

I am not my name,
or how I got here,
or who I think I am.

Without my mind’s
imaginings,
I am a point
of consciousness,
in space and time,
a tiny lense
the universe
peers through,
like a facet
of an insect’s eye,
a neuron
in a Greater Mind.

Like every living being,
I am a pulse
of awareness,
an atom
in a matrix
of infinite light.

To believe
in a noble dream
is to imagine
with commitment.

To believe in peace
will not make it so,
but it will set a path
towards it.

To believe in love
is to walk on that path,
practicing its way,
secure in its intention.

Empty and alone,
I stare at the flickering flame,
shadows dancing on the wall.

Thoughts roll in,
dark and heavy,
filling the emptiness,
oppressive.

Then they slip away,
unattended,
and the emptiness opens,
light and expansive.

This ebb and flow,
like breathing
in and out,
is the mind’s song,
the rhythm
of this human
experience.

When someone
who has touched us
with their love
is gone,
it is our gift,
and our duty,
to carry that with us,
and see the world,
whenever we can,
through that lense.

That is how
we honor them,
and ourselves.