The Greatest Love

I know no greater love than thee;

No greater peace,

And no greater illusion,

Solely you, the One true reality 

I surrender to the sweetness of your nectar,

For there is none as gratifying;

Each step in the dance of breath,

Ever so close to home,

To the place where all hearts meet;

Unbound by the shackles of time in blissful eternity

My life, 

A set of moving pictures;

Another dream,

Meticulously crafted with a fine hand,

By you, the greatest dreamer—

Where it begins,

Where it all ends,

Where it all is,

There you are, 

Waiting for me;

In all my amusements;

Questions and their answers,

Joy and pain,

Fire and rain,

Partner, family, and friend,

I see your face again;

And again,

And again,

Until the end of time

In light of your truth,

So radiant, yet so easy,

Each frame of this great drama becomes something I can taste:

Each moment,

Like silk-woven honey,

Sweeter and sweeter,

And dark chocolate;

Richer and richer,

Sinking—

Deeper and deeper into my soul,

Living forever in your everlasting grace;

I’m less attached to it all but ever closer so,

And I see you are pollen, nectar, and bee,

cacao, sower, and seed;

drought and spring —

Life and death,

Creation and destruction,

Diamond and dust;

Under the single eye, it’s all the same;

I am not blind,

Only to my worries in the face of your love

What I See

I see no grievers,

Only lovers in dismay

I see no hate,

Only love in disarray

I see no fear,

Only resistance to change

I see no time,

Only the flow of presents

I see no death,

Only a new beginning —

I see my heart,

Pulsing feverishly with love for greatness and beauty

Kissed by my sight,

But far beyond the reach of my eyes alone

This love, the object of its own desire, 

For they are one in the same —

I see my dreams,

Only to find myself lost;

I adjust the lens further to see I was tempted by illusions

For there is only A Dream, 

One for each dreamer;

The difference between illusions and dreams —

The former, a very seductive lie

The latter is the truth, 

there are many;

I refuse to control mine.

Love my guide,

I enter the jungle of dreams to play

Treehouse

July 4th, 2025

Layers

Of branches and leaf

A see-through roof

In the trees

I lay

The voice of an angel

Shining through the fireworks' blare and whistle of crickets

The warmth of her weight

I look into the shadows

And they look back at me

An acknowledgement

Away from my eyes

The moon says hello

A gentle light

A gift bestowed

Inseparable from its absence;

I see it on the walls

A comforting blanket for the obscured

The aroma of cedar

sways in my breath

Lulling me to the beat of the present

And only as I wake do I begin to dream

Sunset in The Land of Deers

The waves dance, 

Some in unison,

Some in their own rhythm,

But fundamentally, they are all free —

Both violent and gentle,

Embody wrathful grace;

Softly, our light kisses the horizon;

A reassuring goodbye,

The sun braces for one last waltz,

As the waves continue to dance into the night;

Light is gone before I know it —

I expect sadness, and in its absence I find reassurance,

Almost as if the waves bathed me in it as the sun sailed away;

Telling me not to worry, 

Gently, that I will see it again tomorrow

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

On the ride home, 

In the back of the urban carriage —

Despite the blasting of the speaker

The roaring of the road,

The commotion of the engines,

And the whispers of the wind among the open air;

It was quiet —

A lingering stillness,

Carried from the shore,

Caught in my gaze;

Finding refuge in my heart

Communion

Little gatherer,

In the dew-freckled grass,

Trotting like waves

As the sun seeps in,

So does life —

And before my eyes,

Nature comes out to play

Silent Dancer

Your green hair still, 

As the morning wind has yet to take flight;

A silhouette I know too well —

Rigid and free-flowing hips,

Dancing through the day and night,

Graceful and pure;

Your figure — 

Enduring and beautiful;

My eyes caught you in the act

This precious image —

A welcome sight to my sun-stroked breath

One I can depend on,

But must hold onto deeply today

For enduring does not mean unchanging

And nature will take its course

Silent dancer, 

Both home and witness to the noise

For you are the reason

And In the morning following your departure,

Your echo must be living proof

The noises will still flourish

The Pine

Silent green giant

In all your still wisdom,

Touching the waking sky

So close to both earth and heaven —

Home to all:

The lovers

The givers 

the takers

And the watchers —

But my heart, too.

The Sword

The path of peace does not come without conflict;

We must face our fears

As well as other people

To reach them, as well as ourselves

Armed with the most brilliant weapon — 

Our hearts reflected

With it, we must cut through the fog

And let light shine through

We must bear the sword responsibly —

For it can both build and ruin,

And acknowledge that sometimes, 

We must destroy before we can create

The dilemma of using our words wisely;

The choice is yours to make

Under The Umbrella

A star in a sky of teal

Two dreamers in its shadow 

The palms dance under the passionate sun

While still mountains keep a watchful eye 

As the breeze’s song drowns out the cacophony

And lulls me to sleep

My dreams rest on her shoulder

As the pool and its crowds disappear

For my love is deeper than the bluest ocean

The Seamstress

O wise weaver,

In the dawn’s waking glow,

High upon your bed of silk

Still you are,

In your apathetic benevolence,

For you just are —

Giving and taking simultaneously,

For destruction and creation are of the same mother

The Party

Under the awning of the leaves,

The hairs on my leg mingle with the grass below —

As the sun dances on my face to the beat of my heart,

A smile seeps its way up my spine;

Yes, I say 

As the worms sing

In the dance,

The bugs see me with impartial eyes,

As the world that I am 

In synch, the both of us

For we are lost in the melody 

The Lights Before Dawn

Flying through a field of stars,

I hear the roaring of rubber

I see distant travelers

off to see the world

But maybe they aren't so distant

After all, we're all on the same ride

Trees

Like the trees – as the seasons change and time goes on, 

We are shedding old parts of ourselves, both physical ones and old thought-forms, habits, and ideas

But in their place, new ones form too

But there are parts of ourselves, habits, and deeply rooted ideas that are constant, and hardly change; our general shape – akin to fixed branches on a tree trunk

But even these, too, can change - in a way

Although a fixed branch won’t move up or down a trunk, it will adapt to its environment by changing its orientation and structure. 

And naturally, a tree will also gently shed lower branches that are no longer productive – parts that no longer serve them

And something new and beautiful grows in its place 

That's not to say the old isn’t equally beautiful, because without it, the tree wouldn’t be what it is

And as the old branch that no longer serves the tree falls, that lost energy used to sustain it is returned to the soil below to cultivate new growth in the tree and its surroundings

But sometimes it won’t happen so gracefully, and a tree, due to forces outside of its control, will lose parts of itself it can’t sustain anymore; a traumatic event of sorts

We too, are like the trees

And we too, like the trees, must live intuitively, and let go of things that no longer serve us

Grass

In the early morning breeze,

The grass twinkles and hums

Conversing and communing,

Mingling with everyone;

The insects,

Worms, 

The wind,

And the sun

Alive and radiant,

Shining—

Giving without asking for anything in return,

Accepting with no expectation, 

And a beauty for the eyes to behold