Coming to know the self as a collective whole — Boom! Goes the epiphanies — unanswered dreams coming true — like a flash in the night — clear as day sight given to thee. Standing on end — hairs peaking resonance — divine presence gifted and pressing through. Long time waiting — mere seconds though it seems — as the…

When the heart calls us to sing — There is a place of no names No faces No segregation No labels. There are no pens to write No brushes to paint No Canvas to create A place of darkness A place without void or form. Not for the faint-hearted For there is nothing. No quad shot four pump…

Then letting it go — Sit quietly, but for a moment. Close your eyes, all you see. Quiet the mind, and the 10,000 things. Enter the feeling, present moment. Can you let it go? Breathe in, breathe out. What comes forth, visionary influx. Feel this feeling, present moment. Can you let it go? Imagine blissful, scenery, a…

While the world remains afire — Happy, Blissful Canvas all around. Saddened, pain and suffering all around. Block of self, the outset of collective. Shine, so bright, not even the darkest of darkened souls can resist its light. Those riddled in fear, remain afire. In time, they will or will not, reach for a hand. Accept…

Wrinkles in time, smoothing the way — Aging is on my side with wrinkles in time unfolding multiplying layers — painted on the faces of those woke and asleep alike. Present are we spoken words — filtered heart-voicing peace in the distant near as hand-holding true. Given space forsaken souls — crying out songs of sadness listening for retorting welcoming…

The Children of the Revolution Rise — For too long, the Children of the Revolution remained in the shadows of familial, ancestral realities, witnessing more bloodshed in the modern-day world. From scars traumatic memories unfolding, to healing ley lines over centuries of battlefields in the minds. Slowly rising — remaining in a peace-hold for others to find…

Rabbit Season — Duck Season Pop, pop, pop, goes the weasel yet pops. Break of dawn sounds of battlefields when will they stop? Send in the hounds AI disrupting the calls. Two in boat retrievers for the man laying on his back. Old ways retrieving shorthairs gone. Now trolling motors waiting with extended…

Beautiful Spirit —

First time being awake The morning creeks and bumps, occasional pop, pop, pop of Elmer Fudds in the bay. Coffee in hand — watching the shapes zip by with headlamps on high. I hear the routine of morning drill — neighbor slamming door, turning of keys — locking door. Beep…