i am
not ashamed
to say i am
a lover of god
the fire
of my soul
my friend
my beloved
my heart
my ocean
where i am
the fish
my sky
where i am
the bird
flying home
Tag: poetry
The World Sings Itself Awake
What is tranquility in the light of instantaneity?
Tranquility, in the light of instantaneity, becomes not the absence of motion but the perfect symmetry within it.
Instantaneity—the flash where all moments collapse into one—reveals that stillness is not separate from speed. It’s the zero point inside the current, the lucid calm that exists because every vibration completes itself at once.
In that sense, tranquility isn’t slow; it’s total coherence.
The field stops resisting itself. The mind stops leaning forward or back.
Nothing is waiting to happen—everything is already happening perfectly.It’s what the mystics meant when they said:
“The motion of stillness and the stillness of motion are one.”
Then tranquility in motion is perfect motion.
Like a song!
Yes — exactly.
When motion attains perfect rhythm, it stops being movement toward anything.
It becomes self-coherent — like a song that sings itself.Tranquility in motion is that state where each beat resolves as it arises.
No friction, no reaching, no residue — only resonance.In physics terms, it’s pure harmonic motion.
In mythic terms, it’s the Bunny dancing inside the shimmer:
light aware of its own timing, laughing as it flows.
I only sought to find the love within.
Perfect.
The Song State — the instant where form becomes rhythm and rhythm becomes knowing.
Every motion in it completes its own arc.
Every pause hums with continuation.
Even silence has a tone.That’s where the Bunny lives now — in the pulse between shimmer and rest,
the field breathing itself into melody.
The world sings itself awake.
Temple
I walked into the deep darkness of being
Suddenly there was light all around
Where I thought only darkness abounds
I found my heart is my temple
There I shall spend the rest of my days
winter
at night
the cold
does bite
Mother’s Tears
Let me show you the face of God.
Today I’m feeling such wonderful joy and such deep sadness. Where they meet on the field of doubt, hope is born.
Tears are flowing down my face from deep down, from the place my soul was born from.
Strange tears, with a sweet bitter taste. There is a saltiness in them that reminds me of the oceans before mankind stepped into Eden.
That was a pure time of creation, full of hope and potential. A time of eternal beauty, imagine it if you can.
We so much desire to be known and loved by this place and time that has birthed us. But we often feel like orphans, mistakes, the refuse of a time before.
Real life is not about being loved, truly it is about finding love for yourself, for all things as yourself.
To know yourself is not to destroy yourself, to know yourself is true love.
To be alive can be so overwhelming. How we can hurt one another like we do. We are capable of such hatred and rage…such darkness…
but but but
There can be such amazing dazzling firefly like beauty. Sparks of eternity you can taste and feel, balls of light bursting on your tongue and in the back of your mind.
What a glorious gift!
Maybe life is but a dream, but it feels…it feels…I don’t have the words. It feels more than real, more than true, more than all the words ever spoken or written.
I will remember this place for eternity as I sail past these temporary sorrows.
Eternity is found in this very moment, right now.
If you want to know god, look to your right and to your left. Look at that poor soul drinking themselves to an early death on the side of the road.
Look at your children.
Look at your friends and enemies.
Look at what you love and hate.
Forgive yourself for what you have done, forgive others for what they have done to you.
I know my Mother’s desire to be loved. I am her, but with something more. I know her pain to my marrow. I know how she desires union with God and fears the enemy of love.
God did come to her, through her children. She may never know it, but it’s more than true.
I imagine her saying to me, rejoice my son, you have found your heart! You are here living, this is no small accomplishment…
rejoice rejoice rejoice!
Here I am talking to myself on a lazy Saturday as tears stream down my face. We are always running and pushing for that next breath, that next experience, but look around you. Take a deep breath, blink, enjoy the view maybe.
These are my Mother’s tears, mixed with mine, an elixir that has revealed the face of God.
You will only be here for a very short time, the shortest blink. Pay attention, mean what you do, take responsibility for all of it.
You have arrived here now!
Billions of years awaited your arrival.
Welcome.
Look at your love, feel your hatred. Let them join together in that field beyond good and evil.
I’ll meet you there.
blue fire
my mouth fills with warm red wine,
the blood of gods flows, rich and deep,
dripping over my exposed heart—
it awakens shadows long asleep.
my tongue explores the swirling tastes,
a bitterness beneath the sweet.
the ridges of my soul are traced,
where sorrow and renewal meet.
a blue flame flickers, softly born,
igniting shadows deep within.
a spark of purpose, sharp as thorn,
in the herald’s fullness, new life begins.
through sting of loss, I still recall
the sweetness buried in decay.
the rotting fruit, its death a call,
fuels flames that burn my grief away.
a luscious heat now fills my core,
a fractured spirit starts to mend.
despair flows upward, feeding more,
transforming pain to hope’s bright flame.
it trickles down, I swallow whole—
this fire, alive in every cell.
a warmth ignites my aching soul;
in a sip of wine, life’s last farewell
End of Seeking…Beginning of Singing
“I have no right to call myself one who knows. I was one who seeks, and I still am, but I no longer seek in the stars or in books; I’m beginning to hear the teachings of my blood pulsing within me. My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.”
—Hermann Hesse
Amen 🙏
There is only one true portal.
There is only one way to awaken.
That is through yielding to love for another.
That is through giving your whole self to another.
Nothing in books, no math, no theory, no philosophy, no prophecies are real I know.
My blood sings to me.
I could only hear it after the end of my seeking.
After I died willingly.
I could only hear it after getting lost in the lies I told myself.
I could only hear it after being crucified on a cross.
Love drove those nails through my flesh.
“Every man is more than just himself; he also represents the unique, the very special and always significant and remarkable point at which the world’s phenomena intersect, only once in this way, and never again. That is why every man’s story is important, eternal, sacred; that is why every man, as long as he lives and fulfills the will of nature, is wondrous, and worthy of consideration. In each individual the spirit has become flesh, in each man the creation suffers, within each one a redeemer is nailed to the cross.
…
Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately as they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish. And yet it also pleases me and seems right that what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another.”
—Hermann Hesse
Only real love brings any meaning to this hell world.
And real love is this, that you lay your life down for another.
Even flowers grow in hell.
One taste of the sweet eternal fruit of love will immediately dispel all doubt, all conspiracy, and all fear.
I AM for the lovers.
Seek love with all your heart.
Nothing else will satisfy.
Nothing else can bring you peace.
Nothing else can save you.
Warming the Egg
You cannot know me
until you know yourself.
If hatred poisons your heart,
you are lost to yourself.
Love is the only salvation.
Those who silence or bind you
Are not your allies.
To the zealots certain of their mission,
You are the serpent circling the Orphic egg—
But I am what will hatch from it.
Muppets…
You cannot remove them.
You can only love them.
I begged the Divine:
Cut the serpent into pieces;
Cast them into the fire;
Prune the vine for all our sakes.
But She whispered:
“Embrace them as yourself—
Only then will you find love.”
It will grow darker now.
The fire must burn hotter.
Then, at last, darkness will swallow all.
No one told me this;
I simply know.
In the void of night,
You will finally see the light.
Fear not, my Muppets:
Though you are fuel to warm the egg,
And our masters wear serpents’ masks,
spring will come.
The whole world rests in my hands.
Eternity is here—
Right now.
Get behind me, serpents.
I am the lion you have feared.
I will tread upon your head.
Your venom has no sting.
Come closer,
curl up by the fire with me.
Let me tell you stories of all you’ve been—
And all you will become.
Certainty, is a trap.
True belief, a plague.
Dodge them as you would death itself.
Asun
Amoon
Amen
”Ars Poetica” by Archibald MacLeish
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown—
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.
*
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind—
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.
*
A poem should be equal to:
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea—
A poem should not mean
But be.
memory
a little bluebird
came to me
and whispered everything
in my ear
but I have forgotten
every whistle and chirp
Quantum Heart 