Albatross

2008-02-15T20:55:00.001-08:00

"When?" is the death of "now"--
impossible as it is to satiate the mind's compulsion to control infinite mystery.

My heart sings the moment--it is time to dance.

Dance, my breath!
Dance, my voice!
Dance, my life!
Dance, my soul!
Dance, my shadow!
Dance, my sickness!
Dance, my weakness!
Dance, my woe!

I prefer this beat so wild and everywhere to the chiming of the tallest belfry.
Only the ocean knows such frolicking inward toward infinity.

"When" is water on the wings of the albatross.
It turns turtles on their backs and sends sunflowers away from their namesake.

"When" can be too soon and too late--and always not enough.
But "now" is the mother of "when"--and before long she will be "always."

Blossom

2008-02-12T16:44:00.000-08:00

I am the harp and I am the dance.
I am the child; I am the trance.

I am the wonder; I am the why
I am the tears; I am the sigh.

I am the plant and I am the cell.
I am the water seeping into the well.

I am the vision, I am the dream.
I am the world, unveiled from what seems.

I am the wisher and I am the star.
I am the space between near and far.

I am the servant and I am the queen.
I am the courtesan behind a dressing screen.

I am the sitar and I am the tone.
I am the earth chanting OM in her moan.

I am the seeker. I am the truth.
I am the oracle saying her sooth.

I am the reaper, I am the vine.
I am the seasonal passage of time.

I am the hummingbird, I am the bloom.
I am petals fluttering under wings' "zoom."

I am the apple, I am the seed.
I am the mother plant the grafted branch needs.

I am the river, I am the rock.
I am a child who listens before she talks.

I am the passenger, I am the train.
I am windows that rattle in an onslaught of rain.

I am the goose, I am the feather.
I am the blanket that warms lovers together.

I am the lover; I am the heart.
I am the bliss that belies the "apart."

All rights reserved. Copyright Bliss January 2008.

Tone In.

Albatross

Blossom