These Moments

These moments
They speak of freedom
These melodies
Pluck strings of fantasy
Old and new
I could count the stars and pull them up around the moon for you
Spiral into a milky soup.
And laughter rolls off my tongue into songs of windy whispers
And my footsteps
Are lit by lanterns
Swinging by my side.



To be a Warrior…
Is to foster and nurture the greatness in us all.
To allow energy- any energy,
to move freely through.
Without judgment or identity- placed.
Only in neutrality.
A warrior’s heart knows only purpose,
service, devotion to the vision, imagined
and conducted by a force that at times may seem so fleeting…
It too, unnamed, as the thoughts, the emotions
that flutter through.
The purposed warrior- in his service-
allows room for breadth,
a great magnitude of greatness
to be reflected within and without.
It is from neutrality of holding the space.
The space of direction-
passionate action,
which all can be encompassed within, fearlessly.
Stepping grandly, smartly, each stride covering immeasurable ground.
This warrior resists nothing
as all that is, can be, and will become
adds fuel to the fire.
The consuming flame
which pulses him
quickly, and sometimes- slowly
Continuing in the movement
and by his freedom.
By his ease and scope of ability
he shows others the path.
Stepping stones in quicksand,
for those who choose to see,
those who choose to hear.
And his heart is what carries him.
His heart is what beats the drum
of the knowing, of the purpose.
And he is eagle. He is freedom.
Positioned. Naked. At the frontlines of a battle
that softens as his eyes fall upon the truth.
The truth that seats him, steadily, unbiased
and unafraid.
The truth of his humanness-
of the immortality of Legend
and the fleetingness of Flesh.

Your Thought

How do the hands know not that they can move
Until the action is accomplished?
How then does an artist create
If not only through the vision?
A singer sing?
A poet dream?
The wondering falls far from me
Into some eternal spell.
Only you remain
A lingering breath.
Beneath the surface of a soup
Of love.
Be with me
Fall into me
This I wish of thee
And languaging
Defines the terms of a heart forgotten in the torrent of a mind.
Must remember I am not less than
I am not acredited by
Nor victim of
Or validated by
The thought of you-
And I mean your thought,
But that too.

Awakening to the Dream

Awakening to the dream
Any Dream
To which you Will.
Never been more grateful to be alive.
Funny, what happens when shapes collide.

this lucid dream.
Potential exists
for full capacity
to expand my life
expand my heart
to encompass
this love I have found.
Keep me centered-
my feet on the ground.



There is semblance,
There is continuum…
In the Good of the Heart.
The fibers of love stringing through-
the stalking of energy
in delight of its intellect.
Conscious movement
deliberate intent.
Planning a course
I orchestrate too.
And I chuckle at the brilliance
startle in wonder at the shape of its form.
The riddles and rhymes in clarity-
as never before.