Depth

A Thousand Miles Away – Audio Update

Standard

 

Art – Matt Chambliss

Music – A Thousand Years (Piano/Cello Cover) – The Piano Guys

I dreamed that I was awake

Or perhaps I was awake yet slumbering

Consciousness in flux somewhere between the two

I know what is real, I know the difference

I can feel it

There is substance and passion and depth and sweet rest my reward

I can breathe there

But sometimes reality manifests itself in one and then the other as it wills

So who is to say what is dreaming and what is wakefulness

The Real is not tethered to the narrow realm of the senses

It gives allegiance to none, for there are many ways of knowing

How close is a thousand miles

It seemed as if I could have reached out and touched you

But you were a thousand miles away

What is the distance between this breath and my next

A step or two, feet, inches, seconds, the measurement is irrelevant

So close, yet thousand miles away

I felt you walk into my dream

I felt your presence before I turned, before I heard the voices

I sensed the singular form of you so the sight did not surprise me

Because I can sense you from a thousand miles away

How is it that I can inhale the fragrance of you, hear your voice in my dreams

I felt your glance on my back like a touch reaching out, a kiss on my neck

But there was a gulf between that would not be bridged, a guardian watchful

Polite, familiar chit chat for a second of a second

I could not find your eyes

So close yet a thousand miles away

I felt you leaving and I turned to watch you go

My observation hidden behind the tinted veil

I watched you walk into another dream that was a thousand miles away

Then, at the last instant, the final frantic moment you turned

I saw your eyes seeking me, trying to pierce the darkened glass

I recognized and reached out from the shadows

I was close, but hidden, and a thousand miles away

So, I will write to remember, I will write to say

What it’s like to feel your warmth

From a thousand miles away

What’s the Difference (Audio)

Standard

Image result for image pebble falling through water

Good morning my Soul, my Beloved

I have a question for you
It was put to me, now I lay it at Your beautiful feet
In quiet expectation and trust I await Your response

From my lips to Your heart I cast it
“What is the difference?”
Does it matter
What does it mean
And like a pebble it breaks the surface of the Deep
Fluttering, slowly sinking, falling into the silent Unknown

Quiet, unmoving I remain
The surface of the water now still, a mirror
I gaze un-blinking into Her eyes
Green, brown, and golden windows
Falling like the pebble I sink into the Unknowing
Silence . . . Senses forsaken

“Nothing . . . and Everything,” She says
You have given all and you have also received back
Yet I needed not
You have scaled the heights of the exquisite and ridden on its golden light
And you have been flayed and spilled out by grief too terrible for words
But I am here
You have sought Me in exotic far off places and the adventure it brought
Even in the familiar paths within your reach your steps sought Me out
I never moved
You have dreamed, and built, and created magical things
And you have seen it all laid low in the dust
Yet I remain
You have chased the ancient knowledge, gathering together secrets of the Ages
But in the end only learned of your ignorance
I have watched it all

You ask what is the difference
I tell you there is none
The meaning you seek is fleeting like the Spring flowers
What matters is still beyond your comprehension
You ask what is the difference
I tell you all is changed
You have come to Me
You now sit by My still waters
You know the I Am
We are and shall ever be – One

So go my Love, seek, climb, create, and learn
Explore the world of the senses, the playground of the body and the mind
Thrill yourself with new adventure, people, and places
Walk the barren paths of solitude and grief
Exult in your victories and feel the pain of your failure

Fear not, cast it away from you
You are mine and I am Yours
My Love for you is all that has ever really mattered

Making Mudpies (Audio)

Standard

Image result for river mud boy louisiana

Like soupy handfuls of river mud

Slung against a wall

My words splatter and spread

And slide to the floor

Fragrant, dark, and heavy loam

I feel the coarse silkiness between my fingers

There is something in the mix

But it refuses to hold a shape

Rather, my words form the banks

And contain the currents flowing through me

Fertile, deep, cool, and rich with promise

Yet they dissipate and have no force if removed from the flow

So for now, toes dug deeply into the ooze

I will sit and listen to the water

And the frogs and the buzz of my River

Playing in the mud and making mudpies

Some times it’s just like that

Oceans (where feet may fail) – Reposted for a Friend

Standard

Perhaps it is that when one feels washed overboard, afraid, exhausted, and without a raft there is something in the depths of grace for us there.  Perhaps the raft is what keeps us from knowing.  Blessings, sweetness, and understanding that you are not alone.

Whatever flavor of spirituality that you may tend toward there is a depth and beauty in this.  All poetry is metaphor anyway.  Hold them lightly or risk their death.  Where there is beauty there is the perfume of truth.  It resonated with my soul from that place in me that is too deep for words.  It allowed me to weep.  That is a good gift for a hardened sometimes stupid man like me. 🙂  Maybe my chakra thingy is better for it.  Blessings on your quest for the One who is beyond all metaphor.