Fair maidens seek shelter from the onslaught of spring
Calamity strikes us all without leaving a trace
Evening comes hidden in silent melodies
We all discover passion in a moments light
Too soon it all ends and we wake up with empty hands
Dreams holding golden jewels and scattered relics
Look again, see the fairness of my hands
Precious woven in the simple emptiness
Before me opens up, the slit somewhere new
As I fall into the darkness, I merge with nothingness
I feel whole again, no expectations, no attachments
Just simple wholeness, from within and surrounding
A poem to me is like a bold brush stroke on a white canvas for the first time. The logical mind ceases to exist and something else emerges. There are no thoughts, no rhyme, no form, just passion, emotion, color and flow. It is a breath of fresh air from the world of material and logic. Like flicking off the switch and experiencing so much more.
I love the feeling of walking into an empty room in the dark, on a warm summers eve. The window is open, a gentle breeze wafting into the room; stillness pervading my entire being. It is such a personal feeling but utterly enjoyable to express. How many experiences in life have so many variable feelings. Imagine yourself here in this scene, listening, observing, not talking -- A Crowded market, buying and selling -- A heated argument in a conference room -- Lush forest at first light, animals drinking by the brook -- The desert at midnight, crescent moon, the sounds of infinity -- A child standing at your feet, staring up in your eyes, so innocent and curious. How multitude the feelings!
Our life is the poetry, our death the final beat. Without wisdom, we miss the connecting link.
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