(2013)
These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;
My love for you is true, though we have never met. I will not lie to you. I will not steal from you. I will not con or cheat you.
I met a man who told me that he’s looking for the way he might become more free, less encumbered in his life. Poor me, poor me, poor me;
1998.... while touring india.... exploring the town of rishikesh a popular hindu pilgrimage site along the banks of the holy mother…
The storm is brewing. I smell it in the air. I am panicking. I can barely breathe. I fear this tempest
I dreamed of being lost and trappe… in a land of angry fearful liars. There was nowhere to run or hide. I cowered cornered and exhausted, my back against the furthest wall;
The essence of night is her infinite darkness, that cannot be measured by space or in time. She’s as large or as small
God has spoken. I have been listening, the message is clear. The psalm itself is silent, if the psalmist’s voice falls stil…
It was in those early days when everything seemed technicolor there was that explosion only inward then nothing
These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.
I am crying now. I don’t know why. Am I supposed to know why it is I cry ? Though I always feel
I humbly bow before your tender me… for no other reason than I’m sorry… As I listen to my old pal, Leonar… crooning out his holy tunes, there’s a message sounding clear
Within this pilgrim’s soul exists a hungry beggar waif, who can never afford a moment of indifference or distraction. Alert to every aching nuance
trust the one who seeks the truth doubt the one who says he’s found…
Beloved goddess, sweet holy mother of us all, you who beckon me throughout these hectic days
