A Settling Mist

Outside -

a settling mist

falls so familiar

and so fair.

It is an imperceptible

blanket of content

morning rapture and

warm glow release

that holds me in

this place as if

melted in my own

bed at home - with 

Glinda; the boys

moving slowly

in their rooms

to greet the day.

It is here -

with a book

of simple words

and a cup of

coffee - I am

able to bring that 

outside air and 

bliss inside myself

to grow.

It is a full surround

gift of words and

notions -

slowly

trickling over the

rocks of mystery

and manner that

pulsate out from

the timeless beyond

and back.

This day

holds no special

claim on the life

that moves within

this sack of cells;

it is the scintillating

strand of poetry

that impresses itself

in me and back -

always back -

through time to

all their hearts 

and pens.  It is not

just Bly, and Hass,

Shihab-Nye, Snyder,

and Stafford

that glow; it is Frost

and Whitman, Shelley,

and Satho, Basho, 

and Issa - the

whole damned lineage

of word craft sorters

and impression laced

builders that shatter my

isolation with light.

Light creeps in slowly

and replaces my me

with a they that falls 

lusciously over the

rocks of time and

sings a melody of

infinite meaning and

a camaraderie of

of all that unites

us beyond our skin.

Waiting to be Born

The ice melts slowly
back into the lake
it had been
once before;

I feel my soul return
from the broken and
frozen-over places it
had been sleeping in

while suffering gathered
all outside my door.

The frozen earth
returns slowly to the
mud rich wetness it
has been before;

I feel my heart return
from the solid block-like icy
ground it had become
in the absence of
sweet warmth.

Spring like newness
washes over me
as the anticipation
of blooming captivates
my whole-self

with each tulip leaf
that pushes through
the dirt;

with every birdsong
that assails my soul-ears
and beckons me to
soar above this earth
and to watch the
massive greening
of the planet.

Again, the warmth
of new thawed life
sweeps itself over the
pieces of life that had
begun to feel as if they would
never come again to the
light of newness; to the
warmth of spring.

That wet dirt air
fills my head and I can
again imagine flowers
slowly taking the place if ice.
I can feel the hiking
here to replace the
winter sleep and hibernation.

There is an incredible
light in all things.
It is waiting to be born.

A Thousand Dramas

I have seen
a thousand dramas,
a thousand plays
my ego has written
and performed -
shedding it's
costumes and veils,
whirling in confusion -
hiding the truth
of who I really am.

They are of no use.
They have even lost the
appeal of diversion and
entertainment.

It is this boredom
with the ego and it's hideous
portrayal of the Self
that eventually gives
us the leverage to
crack open the pride
encasing the heart
and surrender to
humility and abandon.

The ego veils the
LIGHT of the true self.

Look behind your shadow;
and remove your sandals.
There lies the Self which burns
as the bush that is not consumed.

Ciao!

TJM+

Drifting Along

As we drift
Along the surface
Of the LIGHT of this present world

We are but
Infinitesimal specks
Gathering dust
To ourselves
As if gold.
Not half as glorious
As we had hoped and
Yet grander then
The simple strands
Our prayers and
Groans would betray.

We rise
Like incense
And are gone -
Only a faint aroma
Of sweetness and
Beauty lingers on the
Boundlessness on the
Trails of time
And space - the rest
Is just the afterburn
Of the resin
On the coals.

And the LIGHT
Goes on, and on
Burning so bright
As to appear as utter darkness.

Bounded rapture of the full
Surround; a blind man
Wrapped in what he
Cannot see,
A wiseman standing
Amid that which he
Cannot understand.

Only warmth.