in a soft river breeze
stands a single willow tree,
fresh in spring colour

Basho

Portrait of Matsuo Basho

http://valenis.net/gallery1.php#image-3

The Dragon of Fear

Come hither, worm, and show thy face,
Renounce thy convoluted coil!
The crown of wonder you would displace
And my native joy, despoil.

Come, don your dark and baleful wings
And sow thy blights both far and wide;
And in the sickness of all things
Regale the tyrant and his bride.

Come, demon of the battlefield,
Hovering o’er the blood-soaked sward;
Where fighting kings and princes yield –
Take heed my freshly burnished Sword!

Come, o hydra, what good are heads,
Multiplied by powers of ten?
Thy spectres thrive on naught but dread
And haunt the sovereign dreams of men.

Come, pestilence of mind and heart,
And know that only Death misgives;
Of despair you’ve made an art,
That twists and blackens all that lives.

Come, sullen trickster, do confess,
That when of doubt we’re finally clear;
The weight of thy own nothingness
Before the sunburst disappears!

if there is nothing
but love in life, there is more
than enough for all

the miracle comes
after you’ve done all
you can possibly do

a dream meeting,
the distance between us bridged
early this morning

Emerging Shapes of Day

one by one
each shimmering star dissolves –
emerging shapes of day

wolves closing in,
the wounded tiger’s final stand;
blood on piled up snow

blue moon,
seems so ordinary –
the one I love gone

after the storm,
umbrella torn to shreds,
the disgruntled lover returns

from a distance,
her long black hair, as lean
and sleek as a swallow’s wing

i seek it wondering
from realm to realm
which was lost to me
in emptiness of my heart

i am longing to see
in all fullness of vision
which shall bring in me
repleteness of my heart

i am listless for that
moonrise of beauty
which will light my life
in gladness of my heart

Oasis
Guitaro Azul – Cafe bolero

An Evening in the Mountains
by Wang Wei

After rain the empty mountain
Stands autumnal in the evening,
Moonlight in its groves of pine,
Stones of crystal in its brooks.
Bamboos whisper of washer-girls bound home,
Lotus-leaves yield before a fisher-boat —
And what does it matter that springtime has gone,
While you are here, O Prince of Friends?

The Flowers When I’m Gone

When the cows were in and the sheep accounted for,

I’d fold your clothes and place them in your drawer.

An hour after sunset, done with toil and drear,

Waiting for your footsteps until you finally appear.

In those twilit hours while listening to you sleep,

I’d sift through countless dreams and bitter would I weep;

It seems like yesterday, our youthful limbs on fire,

Learning the ways of love, trembling with desire!

When the northern wind and the frost comes creeping in,

You’ll make your bed, the bed you’ll be sleeping in.

Your song I will hear in the wind at dawn,

Singing through the flowers, the flowers when you’re gone.

Our children they’ve grown with babies two apiece,

More than a year has passed, my favourite one is Lise.

I swear I see you in her smile, and eyes both wise and kind,

But she will grow up far away, while I am here confined.

And now this house is empty, drained of life once sweet,

I struggle to find some meaning, instead I lose my feet.

Last week I took a fall that damn near spelled defeat;

The rain and that roof you never did complete.

Alone here now all sense begins to unravel,

What dreams are left to dream, what roads left to travel?

Do you remember love, the day that we were wed,

Were the promises that we made, simply words we said?

When the northern wind and the frost come creeping in,

I’ll make my bed, the bed I’ll be sleeping in.

My song you will hear in the wind at dawn,

Singing through the flowers, the flowers when I’m gone…

http://valenis.net/gallery4.php#image-8

“Loss, vulnerability and pain ultimately serve to bring us closer to God. I do not think they serve any other purpose than this.”

Vulnerability, loss and pain have also been used for many evil purposes. A current example is the instigation by the US led NATO of immense hatred by the Ukrainians against their fraternal brothers in Russia. This existential crisis for both Russia and Ukraine has now become a subject of demented pleasure and analysis for the powers that be in the West.

The solution here cannot be to ‘stay calm and carry on’ when small lives are casually destroyed by unseen hands. As every life is precious, we can only wish, hope, and act for minimizing its loss.

The Clock strikes one that just struck two —
Some schism in the Sum —
A Vagabond for Genesis
Has wrecked the Pendulum

by Emily Dickinson

Viktor Tsoi – A pack of cigarettes

I am looking out
of someone’s window
and see someone’s sky
I can’t see a star that’s mine
I roamed on the roads
here and there
Now, when looking back,
I couldn’t trace my footprints.

But if there’s a pack of cigarettes
in my pocket
Then the day’s not all that bad
And a boarding pass
to a silver-wing-plane,
That takes off leaving
just a shadow behind

No one wanted to be found guilty
without a crime,
No one wanted to pick the coals
with bare hands
And death without music
is not romantic,
So I wouldn’t want to die
without music

But if there’s a pack of cigarettes
in my pocket
Then the day’s not all that bad
And a boarding pass
to a silver-wing-plane,
That takes off leaving
just a shadow behind

thank you, sudhi, i love discovering new bands.  blessings xo

Haiku Sequence

Morning Star

spring shower,
fluttering in a thicket;
discarded love letter

heat of the day;
a fly carelessly swept aside
meets its maker

scorched earth;
a lone yellow wildflower
lifts it’s fragrant head

hope springs eternal;
after the long dark night,
morning star

From This Mountaintop

All the suns and the planets, the moons and the stars,
Held aloft in the heavens like so many props;
Plot their well-thought out courses and write their memoirs,
I can see it all so clearly from this mountaintop.

All the birds of the air and the creatures of earth,
Scarpering and scampering, they clamber and hop;
In life and in death they live out their worth,
I can see it all so clearly from this mountaintop.

All the troubles and the turmoil and the waves of unrest,
All the famines and the wars that are fought non-stop;
Nothing more and no less than Souls put to the test,
I can see it all so clearly from this mountaintop.

All the pleasures and the pains and the tears that you cried,
All the wins and the losses and the embarrassing flops;
Served no other purpose than to reave you of pride,
I can see it all so clearly from this mountaintop.

All the misstarts and the missteps and the misjudgements too,
All the half-loves and the half-truths so over the top;
Painstakingly prepared and then led me to you…
I can see it all so clearly from this mountaintop!

19 09 2023

a bird in the sky
pecks on stars night long
a lamp flickers

Two Versions of the beautiful Macedonian song, “Jano Mori”;

Jano Sevdalino; Bilja Krstić

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Pmq9HMVovE

Shot in Macedonia featuring the famous submerged church, and Macedonian actress Jana Stojanovska

And the late, inimitable Toše Proeski; “Jano Mori”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Pmq9HMVovE

to be or not to be;
to see or not to see,
to know or not to know…
it’s all up to me

to fly or crawl or swim,
not up to her or he
nor she nor it nor him
it’s all up to me

to sing or laugh or cry
to sigh or weep or moan
not up to how or why
but up to me alone

to be or not to be
to see or not to see
to know or not to know…
it’s all up to me

Nirbhau Nirvair from the movie Qala (2022), sung by Shahid Mallya, the music by Amit Trivedi. The song is based on the writings of Sant Kabir.

Oh, to die like this
is not the end my friend
The world dies every day
yet does not fade away

Who knows the end to come
and how will death visit me
If my lord lives in my heart
I will fade gently away

Where do you wander in your search
His shadow walks with you
Yet we die with every breath
falling apart than coming together

No protection will shield you
why worry the shroud will cover
What your heart can hold is all you carry
The rest is for the others to take away

When you feast on false dreams
Everything will turn to ashes
even honey will taste sour
Yet we die with every breath
fall apart more than come together

Each breath is a hymn to sing without fear
Hear without hate and sing without fear
🌸🌸

St Paul spoke of “dying daily”.  I understand his words to mean letting go of today as we must prepare for tomorrow, which will be another day, another moment, which we cannot experience fully if we’re laden with the baggage of today. Blake spoke of “kissing the joy as it flies”, in order to “live in eternity’s sunrise”. Taking this thought to its logical conclusion by the time we reach physical death we should be perfectly prepared to yield up the human body, that friend we’ve come to know so well. Rumi spoke of “loving the grainy taste of this world”, just as he’s “preparing to leave it”, and so it is, my friends, the Divine Being willed it this way; listen and live in the moment, live it fully with its joy or with its sorrow, or else suffer.

The Divine has Its own special way with Soul, there is no half measure and there is no turning back. Surrender everything you own and IT will reply with everything It has; come, Soul and enter that strange celestial ecstasy of that inner connection that none may know save within the deepest inner recesses of Self or Being. You will never be the same! Few will recognise a change in you though they may sense or feel it, but you will never want again, you will simply understand and know that everything you may require, need or deem necessary for the Divine work will come to you. You will need to master patience, be prepared to listen to the inner guidance and to pace yourself and to do the required work, according to your own talents, style and tempo.

How could I know longing
would drive me out of my mind like this,

Making  my heart a place of suffering
and turning my eyes into a raging river?

Rumi

“Every mortal will taste death,
but very few will taste life.”
– Rumi

Just before his death, Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi recited one of his most inspirational poem:

When I die;
when my coffin is being taken out
you must never think I am missing this world.
Don’t shed any tears, don’t lament or feel sorry.
I’m not falling into a monster’s abyss.
When you see me is being carried,
don’t cry for my leaving.
I’m not leaving;
I’m arriving at eternal love.
When you leave me in the grave,
don’t say goodbye.
Remember a grave is only a curtain
for the paradise behind.
You’ll only see me descending into a grave,
now watch me rise.
How can there be an end?
When the sun sets
or the moon goes down,
it looks like the end,
It seems like a sunset,
but in reality, it is dawn.
When the grave locks you up,
that is when your soul is freed.
Have you ever seen a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life?
Why should you doubt
the rise of a seed named man…
When, for the last time,
you close your mouth,
Your words and soul
will belong to the world
of no place, no time.

There will be stars forever;
the autumn equinox is crossed,
the earth circles her orbit.

The sun and the moon;
poised on the peak of midnight,
will reach their zenith.

Stillness will be deep;
there will be stars forever,
while we sleep.

https://youtu.be/ZGfTPqOnqh8?si=GgI3C2-btvjo45Vt

Weather is beautiful…Taken last night 9-18-23 by Captain Eric Treece aboard the ship Federal Bering on Lake Superior. [sic]

The Lights come in forms…

In very calm water, on very day night, from the pilot’s eye the stars in heaven and their reflection from the surface are nearly indistinguishable…one exists then in vertigo – an alienated suspension…floating with engine rumble as though in outer space among the stars.

(actually the binnacle lamp and the whisky in the coffee cup tell which way is up…but that’s about it!)

Best! P

“It’s This Way”
by Nazim Hikmet

I stand in the advancing light,
my hands hungry, the world beautiful.

My eyes can’t get enough of the trees–
they’re so hopeful, so green.

A sunny road runs through the mulberries,
I’m at the window of the prison infirmary.

I can’t smell the medicines–
carnations must be blooming nearby.

It’s this way:
being captured is beside the point,
the point is not to surrender.

the man of wisdom chooses to be last,
by so doing, he becomes first of all

Hoping dear Amarynth gets better soon so that she can be back where she belongs. We have always admired her courage and know she will get through this, too.

https://youtu.be/OMO-E4dSuoE?si=fu8bGsd8eOas9t3B
Solveigs Sang (Solveig’s Song)
by Edvard Grieg From Peer Gynt (1867)
Norwegian source: Henrik Ibsen

Both winter and spring may pass me by,
And next summer with them,
and the whole year,
But someday you will return,
that much I know,
And I shall wait for you,
for it was my last promise to you.

May God give you strength,
as you move through the world,
May God give you joy,
if you stand before Him.
Here will I wait until you come back;
Waiting for you to arrive home,
my dear friend!

Speak low if you speak of love… Shakespeare

If You Speak of Love

Speak with reverence if you speak of life,
Speak here below as you speak up above.
Speak with certainty where confusion is rife,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Speak with wisdom if you speak of death,
Speak with forbearance should push come to shove.
Speak with assurance under your breath,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Speak with silence if among eagles,
Speak with compassion if among doves.
Speak to the one that’s made so regal,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Speak with reverence if you speak of life,
Speak with humility from up above.
Speak with patience should you speak of strife,
Speak low if you speak of love.

“Forever Young”
by Joan Baez:

Patricia Janečkova; Once Upon a Time in the West

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=geVBruZAWA4&t=18s

the world is a temple
and you are its sanctuary…

God’s Mills

God’s mills grind slowly but exceedingly fine,
They leave no trace of the Sower’s Art.
A hidden scar that time will heal,
Is all that’s left of a broken heart.

God made the Soul and set it free,
But Soul was ignorant of Its own self-worth.
Seeing that It needed to learn to love,
God barred It from Heaven and sent It to Earth.

Go now and range both far and wide,
Go now and bend your youthful back;
Go now and tread the dusty roads
With all your treasures in a sack.

Go now and grind the quern-stone, love,
Go now and earn thy daily bread.
Go now and learn the Sower’s Art,
And stand me in good stead!

God’s mills grind slowly but exceedingly fine;
Old wounds have cooled that once burned hot.
And simple scars that time will heal…
Are all that’s left to mark the spot.

the falcon,
hearing the drum, flies back
to the king’s forearm

trust, exert and rely
constantly on God, and you will
come to know IT’s ways

when oceans meet
and mingle, a new unknowable
vastness is formed

opening one’s eye;
a glimpse of the hidden
depths within…

Pandit Hari Prasad Chaurasia –
Raag Hamsadhwani :

https://icmacy.org/what-is-icm-raag-hamsadhwani/

Comrade Woody and Tom Joad… all about what might ah been .

Speaking of frogs an’ locusts and deaths of first born and the exuberant revangist nazi – at last uncloaked! –  Heaven sent an eclipse…that’s in Taos  (stolen Mexico city) Leaves cast shadows…

Bobby> https://youtu.be/T5al0HmR4to

G’nite my friends. Best! P

fire consumes
everything in its path,
so too it is with love

The Earthworm and the Bird

The earthworm ploughs and tills the soil,
And spends its days in endless toil.
The bird it flies above the earth,
And spends its days in endless mirth.

The earthworm hopes and dreams of love,
And fears the skies up above.
The bird it soars above the yield,
A roaming eye and lance to wield.

When the earthworm’s day is done,
It prays to God and Kingdom Come.
When the bird’s time is nigh,
It sings God’s praise with every sigh.

When night has come and veiled the earth,
It’s then we’ll see the worm’s rebirth.
When loss is gain and death is birth,
It’s then we’ll see the bird’s true worth.

Perhaps this picture is saccharine, maudlin, but I like it. It accords with my Quakerishcussidnessof thought…as there is for us no church nor canon… anyway… picture> …and God said to the animals let us make man…

G’nite my Friends. Best! P

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

(The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyám, by Edward FitzGerald)

Thanks Sudhi…Mother used to try to send that telegram… 😉

…….

Of Stumpy’s, an imaginary bar of somewhat disreputable character of a road house criminal dive outside Anoxia Town Limits…near the County Line… (Warren Zevon’s dad was “Stumpy, they say he ran the bookie rackets for Mickey Cohen…so? So I made Stumpy up… But I did not make up the Real Stumpy’s Place…enjoy!> https://youtu.be/3Hg7O0pzH9A

Best! P

A haunting track written after beholding his newborn baby’s eyes, composed and played by contemporary German composer and multi-instrumentalist, Stephan Micus. A single steeldrum provides the rhythm part, while the melody is played on an Indian bowed instrument with 4 metal and 24 sympathetic strings known as a dilruba. It is fretted like a sitar while the bridge runs over a goat skin, its range encompassing roughly that of a viola.

Stephan Micus; “Yuko’s Eyes”

man outshines the sun
but for an hour, but what
an hour it is!

Shine like the Sun of Tabriz rising in the East.
Shine like the star of victory.
Shine like the whole universe is yours!

“Rumi – In the Arms of the Beloved”
translated by Jonathan Star

Anna Akhmatova is regarded as one of Russia’s greatest poets:

You will live without misfortune,
You will govern, you will judge.
With your quiet partner
You will raise your sons.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And for us, descending into the vale,
The altars burn,
And our voices soar
To God’s very throne.

“Petrograd, 1919”:
No one wants to help us
Because we stayed home,
Because, loving our city
And not winged freedom,
We preserved for ourselves
Its palaces, its fire and water.

Crucifix :
Do not cry for me, Mother, seeing me in the grave.

This greatest hour was hallowed and thandered
By angel’s choirs; fire melted sky.
He asked his Father:”Why am I abandoned…?”
And told his Mother: “Mother, do not cry…”

Magdalena struggled, cried and moaned.
Peter sank into the stone trance…
Only there, where Mother stood alone,
None has dared cast a single glance.
– Anna Akhmatova

German folk song with translation:

The Bridge to Greater Worlds

Evening shadows lengthen and fall
Across your darkening way.
Strength that once carried you,
Beginning to falter and fail.
Do not fear the twilight, love,
Surrender freely all you may,
For as each purpose is fulfilled,
What need is there to rant and rail?

You know that old and broken body,
That garment now outworn;
Will soon return from whence it came,
And you’ll be finally free to soar!
Do not fear the darkness, love,
Or the ferryman’s quiet advance,
For birth and death are but a bridge,
To greater worlds that lie in store.

And when the rising whirlwind comes,
And the great dissolving does begin;
Deep within a remembering,
Not once not twice, but countless times!
Do not fear the day, my love,
Or the agony of being born.
There is a reason for the veil,
And why the morning bells do chime…

You know that old and broken body,
That garment now outworn,
Will soon return from whence it came,
And you’ll be finally free to soar.
Do not fear tomorrow, love,
Or the ferryman’s quiet advance,
Birth and death are but the bridge,
To greater worlds that lie in store!

Thanks Sudhi, especially for thoughts are free… Brought memory and smile 😉

P

The Book of the Heart

Secrets written in the
Book of the Heart, do not readily
translate into words.

Lion and gazelle meet
face to face, neither makes a move.

A falcon disappears into
a forest and does not return.

A man on the gallows
finally puts aside his desire for revenge,
and his sentence is stayed.

When God sets traps for you,
enter them gladly.

The arrow that strikes
the eagle is made of
its own tail feathers.

i’ve come again
like a new year
to crash the gate
of this old prison

i’ve come again
to break the teeth and claws
of this man-eating
monster we call life

i’ve come again
to puncture the
glory of the cosmos
who mercilessly
destroys humans

i am the falcon
hunting down the birds
of black omen
before their flights

i gave my word
at the outset to
give my life
with no qualms
i pray to the Lord
to break my back
before i break my word

how do you dare to
let someone like me
intoxicated with love
enter your house

you must know better
if i enter
i’ll break all this and
destroy all that

if the sheriff arrives
i’ll throw the wine
in his face
if your gatekeeper
pulls my hand
i’ll break his arm

if the heavens don’t go round
to my heart’s desire
i’ll crush its wheels and
pull out its roots

you have set up
a colourful table
calling it life and
asked me to your feast
but punish me if
i enjoy myself

what tyranny is this

“Rumi, Fountain of Fire”
Translated by Nader Khalili

Time for something lighthearted, originally written in response to ‘Alabama’…

“He who would save his life, will surely lose it…”

Overboard

how I long for my home
on the edge of the sea,
among the cats on the docks
of old Galilee,
whatever possessed me
in that old shantytown,
to come all this way
only to drown?

overboard, overboard,
it’s overboard we’ll go,
the flood tide it rises
and the wind it does blow;
neither captain, nor bosun
nor galley of slaves,
can save us this time
from our watery graves!

for land-lubbing rats
the choice is but stark,
to hide from the beasts
that lurk in the dark;
what wouldn’t I give
for such sweet torment,
to escape the slow dance
of that long slow descent?

overboard, overboard,
it’s overboard we’ll go,
for the flood tide it rises
and the wind it does blow
now the captain and the bosun
and the galley of slaves,
can no longer save us
from our watery graves…

“Lion In An Iron Cage”
by Nazim Hikmet:

Look at the lion in the iron cage,
look deep into his eyes:
like two naked steel daggers
they sparkle with anger.
But he never loses his dignity
although his anger
comes and goes
goes and comes.

You couldn’t find a place for a collar
round his thick, furry mane.
Although the scars of a whip
still burn on his yellow back
his long legs
stretch and end
in the shape of two copper claws.
The hairs on his mane rise one by one
around his proud head.
His hatred
comes and goes
goes and comes…

The shadow of my brother on the wall of the dungeon
moves
up and down
up and down.

“Hiroshima Child”
by Nazim Hikmet:

I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead

I’m only seven though I died
In Hiroshima long ago
I’m seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow

My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind

I need no fruit I need no rice
I need no sweets nor even bread
I ask for nothing for myself
For I am dead for I am dead

All that I need is that for peace
You fight today you fight today
So that the children of this world
Can live and grow and laugh and play

( this poignant poem does well portray the plight of the dear children in Gaza, as all our hearts weep for those little ones facing the wrath of the little-big hegemon )

There is No Other Way

there’s a mystery
inside you, but it eludes
your intellect

wanting for nothing;
the secret lies in self control

sitting on two thrones
means being sovereign of none

if you’re prepared to
fight for revenge, you must
be prepared to dig two graves

love alone
has the power to stay
the hand of death

risking everything
for love, there is no other way

Stephan Micus; “The Horses of Nizami”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6G_S341vEPM

night horses,
grazing on flower blossoms;
desert rains

Simon and Garfunkel; “April, Come She Will”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k

April, come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
May, she will stay
Resting in my arms again

June, she’ll change her tune
In restless walks she’ll prowl the night
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight

August, die she must
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold
September, I’ll remember
A love once new has now grown old

Turning Over a New Leaf

selling your soul brings only death;
without life, life becomes an
unbearable burden

you’ve set a hundred requirements;
I’ve failed every single one,
and yet your blessing remains

the road you’re on
eventually becomes the divine road;
be silent and let God show you the way

turning over a new leaf;
mastery and generosity of spirit
washes away all restraint

when the tongue stops wagging,
a kiss from the Lord enters
the scheme of life

“Peace Piece”
by Bill Evans

Northsouthwesteast from Anoxia about a two hour walk

They tell us that “our” State was never a “slave state”…  That’s a lie….

https://youtu.be/56hhDndCQ4o?si=gRw3o6P3vmFGdZKz
Bipul Chettri – Junkeri ( Firelies )
lyrics translation :

Stars adorn the skies,
as the stream flows in silence.
It is when we sit down together,
and watch the fireflies dance.

I walk around without
any hope in my mind.
What is there to find in this world?
Let us run away, you and I.

This is the destiny of this world,
everyone leaves you some day or the other.
Futile words keep us entangled here,
and in this way, we live our lives.

I have an urge to fly away,
but, I do not know where to go.
What is left in this world to achieve?
Let us leave all behind, you and I.

This night, it happened once again,
I was suddenly awoken by aspiration.
My imagination filled my eyes,
as if they are flying fireflies.

I wish the sweet night
had stayed back with me.
But, before the morning comes,
Let us run away, you and I.

Reaching Through Heaven’s Space

afterward,
I wander the night sky,
looking for you

drawn to their grief
like moths to the flame;
reaching through heaven’s space

wailing their anguish,
the terrified spirits cried;
“Lord, why hast thou forsaken us?”

a falling cat,
twisting it’s body elegantly,
lands on its feet…

Kyrie Eleison /Anastasia Gladilina //Choir of Stretensky Monastery
https://youtu.be/mAZC4oe9VM0?si=QEcN4cg8S0FJYImh
Kýrie, eléison (Greek: Κύριε, ἐλέησον)
“Lord, have mercy”

https://sacredwindows.com/a-monastery-a-liturgy-and-a-pop-star/

https://youtube.com/watch?v=mFEaWpsFYSk&feature=shared

Dan Fogelberg and Tim Weisberg; “Since You’ve Asked”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYdAK9tNj1g

What I’ll give you since you asked is all my time together
Take the rugged sunny days, the warm and rocky weather
Take the roads that I have walked along
Looking for tomorrow’s time, peace of mind

As my life spills into yours changing with the hours
Filling up the world with time, turning time to flowers
I can show you all the songs
That I never sang to one man before

We have seen a million stones lying by the water
You have climbed the hills with me to the mountain shelter
Taken off the days one by one
Setting them to breathe in the sun

Take the lilies and the lace from the days of childhood
All the willow winding paths leading up and outward
This is what I give
This is what I ask you for
Nothing more

Who can know the mysteries of heart.
The heart runs deeper than the ocean.
Storms rage inside, while fleets sail by.
With crew stretched tout plying oars.
Only the Soul can realize the heart.

Raag Hansadhwani
by Pt. Ravi Shankar
https://youtu.be/wsdow-BBYtY?si=77DVEaYD2IBl_4IB

Haiku, four days on…

last moments of sunset
reflected on water;
gold on cloud

way out here, in a
distant corner of the woods;
forgetting who one is

someone once said
something along those lines –
even they weren’t close

beneath my kimono,
a gift for my lover,
my quickening step…

uncovering the
secret way soul has of
being with the mystery

I Bring to Thee

sometimes in comfort’s ease, I’ll
find some undiscovered breeze

or in despair’s thrashing woes,
to stay the ache I must compose

I’ll climb upon my children’s backs;
one’s name is thorn, the other rose

and to this task, bound and wed,
I ride the storm and rake the rows

past the teeming river flats, where
the skimming geese convene

o’er the sacred mountain grove,
on through the emerald labyrinthine

last night I scrubbed the starry vault,
with sweated brow of pale moon time

and rode the morning sun horse home,
to bring to thee this brand new rhyme!