20 Lines A Day

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Hope

The full moon hangs heavy
in the sky just before dawn
pregnant with the weight
of new beginning
a mystical ball of way-showing light
that speaks in silence
to the many who clamor to kneel
before its placement in the heavens
a throne of ruby-ringed stardust
and a thousand twinkling courtiers
bleed across the darkened canvas
of the mind’s eye
in the holy sanctum
of the soul
where heart light resides
in a private universe
charged with the promise
of Hope

©SpiritLed 2014


Dichotomy

You look across this human life between
Right and Wrong
Black and White
Good and Bad
Life and Death
and howl in roaring discontent
for lives well-spent in others’ cages

Yet all things bear extremes and
in betweens and in the grey
is where the magic happens:

     humanity comes alive
     peace is sought and won
     lives are laid down for one another

Your days of love’s labor
are not long for this world,
the distance between heaven and hell
becomes but a speck of dust
you carry in your pocket
along the uneasy, winding way to dusk’s door
and dawn’s welcoming embrace

©SpiritLed 2014


The Time is Near

Angel heart

The time is near when you will hear the whisper
when you will heed the song
when you will throw your pretense to the sky
and let you heart wander free

free to release the stirrings inside
hold them in peace and give them light to grow

free to open to the connection
that is your birthright,  your Divine gift
your alter to the Source of unconditional love
you can’ t lose it, it’s inside you

The time is near when you will feel,
allow yourself to be cut in order to experience the light
instead of always running into the arms of darkness
trying to numb out the lightest sting

One day you will call on us
and we will be your heavenly beacon
your burning light of refuge
as you make your way through this life

The time is near
The time is near

©SpiritLed 2014


God-Filled Cracks

Pristine ocean waves
call you to places you’ve never
dared to go, places inside
your mind where the light

burns bright and exposes
all your sullen and dingy
thoughts on god and why
he doesn’t show up in your life

more often, compels you to examine
under the force of the pounding waves
your acts of defiance
in the name of self-preservation

but which self is still unclear,
despite the microscope and
operating table where you can
carefully dissect and then put

the pieces back together
stitch by stitch, like a Frankenstein
doll with a porcelain heart,
stuck together with tacky glue

that is only guaranteed for a few years
and after that who knows what happens
to those shattered pieces?
Do they break apart and float,

getting lodged in the crevices?
Or do they simply disintegrate
as if they never existed?
You think the glue will hold

because you always were naïve
and the patched up parts
are your religion, the glue-filled
cracks where you find your god

SpiritLed 2014


More

The final day of vacation holds a sadness
a knowing that the hermit life created for a time must end
that all the sandy remnants washed upon the shore
which once housed life
now provide enjoyment for collectors

as their broken parts begin to renourish the shoreline
as your broken parts started to renourish while on temporary retreat

Yet the wholeness is still fleeting
as soon as the water washes upon the shore
it just as quickly recedes
and even an extended solitary stay
cannot stop the feeling
of slipping away

And so the melancholy pervades
even as the others play and walk the beach
in quiet confidence of more time

More time –
     It’s what you always want
     no matter the endeavor

More time to hug your children
More time to finish your work
More time to stay still

More –
     Nothing is ever enough

Why can’t the blessed moments in life be enough
     without wanting more?

Each moment is encapsulated in the now, past and
     future are no longer or not yet real

More implies lack, and looking out at this expanse
     you know you want for nothing
     except for More

Each shell you collected is real today but gone tomorrow
     and you still want More

Each day a gift, never to be received again
     and yet you sit, melancholy on the sand
     counting the hours until you must part
     rather than counting the waves, the shells,
     the single grains of sand that could fill up
     an entire lifetime of More

Waves, shells, sand
     they know everything comes to an end
     transition is the only way to sustain life
     they share their wisdom
     for those who are open to hear
     those who dare to turn their backs on More

SpiritLed 2014


2 Comments

Where Green Meets Blue

2014-07-13 10.14.43

There is no such thing as too much time by the sea
for she’s my closest friend
sometimes enrapturing me with laughter
sometimes pounding discontent
sometimes kissing my feet with salty tears

Long spaces of time may transpire between visits
but we start again right where we left off
marvel at the changes in each other
laugh together at the shorebirds
gobbling tiny morsels of gossip

We sit together, my sea-friend and I
pick up pink-striped shells, broken slivers of sand dollars
and throw them back into the welcoming waves

She cannot resist one more caress on the shore
and I, one more glance across the horizon
where green meets blue in perfect union

It may be true that I could share this love
with any other shore
nourish the same quiet friendship
but there is a secret here in the crystal sands
there is a solitude that spreads like religion
no matter how many people circle ‘round
there is healing like a baptism
in every splash upon the shore

SpiritLed 2014


Heartsong

Bedroom with moonlight and smoke

Twilight sparkles in violet eyes
that gaze upon a star-filled night
ponder the vastness of the world in view
questions if there is any more in this lifetime or the next

Moonbeams shower illustrious glory
a worried mind with hopes for tomorrow
soaks in the rays, feels the loving arms
of those gone before,
soothing lullabies for an ancient generation
raise laughter to the sky

Through thick and thin
disaster and delight
she takes the moon to be her partner,
her loving mistress of the night
who fuels her warrior spirit
and fills her with the courage to face each day
to know and recognize
that the pounding,  fleshy organ in her chest
brings life not from its incessant beating
but from its unending capacity
to hold us all within its crimson chamber

©SpiritLed 2014

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