From a tight room in the womb, to the unlimited.
Sheltered under a shoulder, protected by loving arms,
Senses soaked in the limitlessness, vision fenced it.
As I was looking out, the outside travelled within.
What a puzzle.
Waves of love, hate, joy, sadness, life and death
Occupied rooms in me.
It was havoc! Was I all of these things?
Who was I? Where did I stand?
Did I have choices?
Years passed before the realisation emerged;
If I have a room for anger and sadness, the outside will claim it
If I have a room for war or peace, the outside will seed it.
And if I have a room for life and happiness, the outside will nourish it.
The goal was apparent;
Have no rooms but one place –
A Snow Tale
Scissors shred history’s fine grey hair.
Childhood memories drift in snippets, landing with a silent thud.
Worn out snow angels frame geometric paintings
Carved in the snow floor by excited little feet.
Laughter housed inside puffs of icy breath traveled with small hands
Rolling crystals within crystals, snow within snow.
Patting and molding with numb arched hands,
Finished in a glaze of a thousand fingerprints.
He stood proud star gazing, guarding the full moon.
As the sun shrank the night and the moon sank into day,
He bowed to her rays, pearly sweat paving the way back
To where it all began.
...The present brushed the memories away,
And with a smile I understood;
He has gone, but the essence remains within.
When water started its journey from a well,
That wasn’t the beginning.
Reaching seas and oceans,
Was not the end.
Existence is like looking at a multicoloured, two faced spinning coin.
Identifying a face or colour, is like finding the end point of a circle.
Observing existence helps to comprehend it, yet it’s impossible to fully understand,
Creating voids for theories, religions and philosophies to conquer.
The reality is; In every spin of the coin there is a start but never the beginning
...An ending but never the end.
The past was the future, the future will be the past and the present
Is a place they enter and leave, leave and enter - yet never meet.
Everything is changing but the change.
Evidently - In the beginning - was the end.
Waist deep in snow, I long to leap out into the dust – faceless.
In the distance a tree holds five moons full.
Meditating with a cloud in one hand and a tornado in the other I wonder,
Are those that run from silence scared of duality’s completion?
Dawn’s silence delivers screaming sunlight - midwifed by horizon,
Night’s silence sparkles to the stars drumming ether.
“Hush now” said the space inside zero,
Why be afraid of the madness within your silent sanity?