The Playhouse Stage

The Playhouse stage

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Where do I go,

How far do I travel

To find the places and people

Who visit my dreams?

Do they come here,

Do I go there?

Is it all as real as it seems?

Where is the playhouse stage

Where the plays are played?

Who writes the script

And tells the time,

Who appoints the place

Where dreams are made?

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It Belongs To Them

It Belongs To Them

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It belongs more to them than us;

They rhyme with the wind and wave,

Move with the primal motions,

Each a dancer in the cosmic dance.

We have made ourselves outsiders,

Passersby watching without knowing,
Vandals of the cradle

With no ear for the song.

We think it is ours

But it only waits our passing.
And when we are gone
No anthem will praise
No dirge will mourn.

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Fifty Thousand Years

Fifty Thousand Years

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I know about the unaloneness

Of friendship

That lasts 'till you're alone;

I know about moments of amusement,
Trips to get away,
And promises that seem sincere when made.
I know about the brief intensity of pleasure,
The sometimes endlessness of pain.
I know about working for a living,
The often slight rewards of effort,
The slowness of getting ahead,
How easy to lose and hard to gain...
And I know about the merciful silence of solitude,
Being wrapped in the absence of sound
When everything human is nowhere found.

But let me know if you

Find any meaning

To fifty thousand years

Of war and killing.

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Near The Exit

Near The Exit

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Best not to be an actor

In the play,
A partisan upon the stage;

Nor a member of the mass
Who adoringly pay the wage.
But mostly not a member of the throng
Who applaud the players of the fraud...
The singers of the loyal song.

For when the closing curtain falls
Upon the last turning of the page,

Best to be a watcher in the wing

Near the exit from the coming rage...

The coming coming rage.

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Immeasurable Moment

Immeasurable Moment

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The present is not long,

Only a moment rushing in

From the future

Falling instantly to the past,

An ever moving immeasurable moment,

Ever beginning ever ending;

A never stopping moment of now.

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Another Heaven

Another Heaven

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I have stood in Earth's places

Spellbound by Her majestic beauty,

My gratitude immeasurable

For Her forms and colors,

The moving waters,

 The quietness of Her Being,
The miraculous choreography of elements
That so reliably performs its recurrence,
The rapture of unfolding moments
Sweeping over me
Like the living breath of the universe.

Whomever searches for another heaven...

Are they blinded here?

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Like The Shine Of The Moon

Like The Shine Of The Moon

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From where do we come

And where do we go?

We are composed of elements

Is all that I know.

They collect and we're here,

They disperse and we're gone.

We sing while we sing;

Like the tune of a song

That sings 'till it's sung;

Like the sum of a whole

Not found in its parts;

Like the shine of the moon

When it's new.

  

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When Time Was Now

When Time Was Now

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When Time was now

And moments flowed in waves;

When newness sprang about

And filled those happy days...

How Time was always then,

And when... so far away.

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Oh For A Friend

Oh For A Friend

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Oh

For

A

Friend

With

A

Love

For

Irony

And

Metaphor

And

Allusion
And
Wonderment

.

.

.

And

The

Playfulness

Of

Puns
.

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A Sailor's Dream

A Sailor's Dream

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A sailor's dream:

Fair weather on a silver sea;

Clear skies off the bow
And a seven knot breeze,
A mermaid on board

And no rocks on the lee.

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Dreaming

  

Dreaming

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There is peacefulness, and light,

Such a warm light like a loving hand touching me;

And colors, so many colors softly surrounding me.

It is so wonderful here in this place apart;
Apart, where I am finally found.

I want to sleep, and dream forever

Of where I am...

To slumber on a cosmic cloud,
Play hide-and-seek with the phase of moon,
Watch comets round the sun
And Eternity unfold her boundless plan,
As worlds revolve
From night to noon.

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When A Leaf Falls

When A Leaf falls

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When a leaf falls

A volition has ended,

The will to hold

Is lost

Of another purpose.

The death of a leaf,
The golden blaze of endings;
A return down the primordial pathway--
Something becoming nothing
As nothing once became everything.

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I Sometimes Remember

I Sometimes Remember

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I sometimes remember

A moment past
When rainbows ringed the looking glass...
A place in time
Wrapped with memories
Of fire chants and dancing shadows
Upon a moonlit sand,
When secret yearnings touched
Through holded hands
And our dreams we thought were dawning...

Memories of moments gone

Fill no more space

Than dreams of moments

That never came;

Both endure the passing days

But never ease the sorrow
Of the splendor that never stays.

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Dreaming Down

Dreaming Down

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 When under the circumstances of living

Cutting winds of gray and cold

Rifle through and true my dreaming down,

To hopeful thoughts I turn

Where maybe when the world goes 'round

A dream forsaken
May once again be found.

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Happiness

Happiness

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Does happiness just happen,

Something you catch like a cold?

Or is it chosen,

An attitude or circumstance decided,

Like a flower you place in a glass

To color the moments that pass?

Is it a state that develops,

A pleasure that occurs

Instead of a pain,

An imagining in the mind

That's really not there?

Is it a possession acquired,
A capacity possessed
Like an ear for a sound?
Is it a distant sail upon a silver sea
That passes too fast,

A rainbow dream
That cannot last,
A hidden smile
That's now unveiled?

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Could There Be?

Could There Be?

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Could there be another me,

A living presence in another world

Just like me,

A reflection universe with replicas

Of what is here?

I would not escape my wondering

For all the gods declared,

No solaces divine can compare

To the freedom of my mind.

For it wasn't with the wheel formed

Or fire made,

Nor when grunts became a knowing sound

That Man first touched the sky,

But when his searching mind

First wondered why...

I want no easy answers,
Only mysteries placed before my eye,
That I may ever wonder why.

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Rainbows

Rainbows

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What a world this is!
Rainbows and waterfalls,

Songbirds and butterflies...

And a little girl's eyes.

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The Master

The Master

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I would be master

Of my fate,

But I find no helm to till,

No rudder, no mast,

No mooring line to cast.

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A Secret Sculptor

A Secret Sculptor

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A secret sculptor

Dwells within the sea
Far beyond the foaming waves,

Who nightly fashions

Finely forms of stone and wood,
Salvaged from their salty graves

To place upon the sea washed sand...

A gift for mourning strollers by the sea

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A Passer's Footsteps

A Passer's Footsteps

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 Leave a modest mark upon the stone

That Time will on its own erase,

For what you mark

Upon the name of man

Is but a passer's footsteps

Made upon a changing sand.

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A Path Of Sand

A Path Of Sand

 

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The restless sea sends its claws

Against the bounding land,

Forging a battlefield

Deep in grains of fallen sand.

A billion years

The war has raged

To pave a path of sand for me

Between the silent stone and surging sea ...
Where I will soon forever be.
 

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Cosmic Gifts

Cosmic Gifts

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I will be the one you see

Distant down

The sea swept shore

Alone amid the wonders there;

The cosmic gifts

The stars have shed

On their burning journeys

Down the inexplicable pathway
  Of Time. 


                              

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Dreaming Of Colors

Dreaming Of Colors

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There is a toll that's paid

For dreaming of colors

In a world of gray;

A world
That breaks the pottery

And hardens the clay.

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Pastness

Pastness

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Moments flow by

Like molecules of water

Rivering to the sea...

Is there a great sea of moments past

Where time that was remains,

A vast pool of pastness

Beyond the reach of memory,

Beyond the reach of knowing...

Where dreams that died

Still drift upon the mourning tides?

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Winter Shades

Winter Shades

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My Spring thoughts

Came in the late days of Summer,

And now Winter shades

Even the golden rays of Autumn.

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There Always Comes A Time

There Always Comes A Time

                                                           

There always comes a time

To break camp,

To douse the dwindled flame

And load the wagon.
No parting word or sign,
Only scattered ashes
And wagon tracks

Heading toward the next row of hills...

Where waits beyond,

Another morning meadow
Newly cast in green,

With wild flowers filled.

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Train

Train

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Time is a train of days,

Carloads of used moments speeding by,

Another and another and another,

Clickety-clacking over a cliff

Tumbling to an abyss of yesterdays.

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Ten Million Years

Ten Million Years

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Will this mountain stone

Where now I rest facing the eastern sky,

In ten million years

Still warm to a rising sun,

Will the meadow flowers in Springtime bloom,

The white puffed clouds still drift a sea of blue,

Will the rivers flow with waters clear,

Will the son of man still be here?

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