The Art Of Connection



We see connection

at times where there is none

except in all I do not know of One Creation

The transcendent all inclusive One

never truly lets go



ideas of pattern

weaves  suspicion

something is up

a connections intention

what is going on?

Attachment in some dimension

of sight

of sound or memory

of thought

of concept…

Narration comes to exist

not only in reality

but in fantasy as well

classic of paradox

fantasy itself becoming

an aspect of reality


We must decide how to be

to be be true to Truth

follow Truths standards

as bound to each subjective angle

or make things up and pretend

check not too close

question narratives

not so much

becoming certain within

a mixture of fact and fiction

a conglomeration of connections

some holy and others holes

gaping disconnection


feeling what we are missing


These heredity’s of iconography

they propose story lines

we arrange our role along

acting as if idea were Truth

and idea need not be inspected

too closely to reveal its possible error…

May it be delusion claiming connection?

Do I know what I believe?

Has culture cast me in stone?

Do I mimic these roles narrative line?

Filter my sight, my mind, my heart

sensing only what is allowed by consensus

but called a Truth and called The Real fact?

Yet this is engineered by appearances

supported by the revolving bias of confirmation;

To claim knowledge in ignorance concealed

but called wisdom and common sense

called even faith and honor

even duty and trust

loyalty and courage of conviction.



We each see a universe

from a darkness of the self

where insecurity may drive

rains of doubt and abandonment

The Light of Existence obscured

making some things out to be

and others not sure not to


Why we do depend upon others

we require differing views

to honestly comprehend what is

even if incomplete in all honesty

It is honesty to Being which questions

each one:

Do I try to see what is?

Do I remain honest to my subjective;

that what appears real may not be

requiring humility in both belief and trust


This subjective life is fragile

while Life is eternal

I am a presence

immersed within Presence.

In Presence I am Love

without It I may love

and lose all

but who I really am



We each are in this way asked in our moment;

Draw more near to Love and Understanding

To awe and the wonder of reason

or be busied by what I lack?


See with open heart and mind

with Spirit immersed in connection

or fear what I do not know

becoming a servant of separation

while all the while

being one within One








A Dark Side Of The Moon Christmas Reflection

The Edge Of Reason

A fingernail moon

Drifts across December’s sky

Gone is the overwhelming sun

Its dream a reflection

Here shines an edge of moons day


Here below

Christmas shoppers think;

Who needs what?

What will mean the right thing?

Will light shine from this gift?

How much can I afford?

When will enough be enough?


Out seeking abundance for someone else

It may seem easier to spend

Than on ourselves

The thoughts are prescient

Stores filled with seekers

The internet slow as snowfall

A moon never turning


Ideas of lack and meaning

Mix with anticipation and giving

This moon will set as always

Its travels over and around your earth

Covering all who look above



There you are in infinite sky

Or are you in us

Still infinite?

Not eclipsed by buying

Undaunted by wishing

Clear and conscious if seen

Circling in rendezvous reception;

Upon introspection and extrapolation

From inside out

From all about and around our lives


Air passing through these hands

Between eyes and moon

Touched only by Presence

That missing side of heaven

Silently shining with you

Amidst the dark side

Of wanting

And wonderment does grow

Waxing in its void filled manger;

Who darkened Christmas?

A child beckoning to civilization, now object

Who made birth into a material show and tell

Not one of Spirit free and unadorned?


Here an eternal child emerges

Each day facing us certain as this moon

We see or do not see much of this consistency

Know when to look toward eternity

Born for the reasons of Love

Naked in a manger

Honest with Light

In the dark of cold night.

{Photo Of Dec 18 2009 Moon}


Bring Back A Portion Of The Worlds Lost Heart


Somewhere in every life

even when missing

gone like the sunset

blackness swallowing light

in moments searching around

what was it that was said?

is it too dark now to see?

the fading of memory

the trouble inside our misery

Searching outside in vain

shadowed by cloud

rained on by sea

salt on the proud

a dream soon to be

a wave loomed and breaks

was this quest always inside me?


How I walked  a world in vain

unless full feeling my part

to bring back my portion

of the worlds lost heart


Just Another Sunset Photo Poem

The Unseen Everywhere



They come at a moments notice

with angle required by chance

showing what otherwise

might be unseen

Is Life not like this?

To see what might be there

at times a magnifying glass prowls

or ones eyes placed just above the ground

seeing what above was always

a seeming nothingness

instead a teeming now

subject of ones intention



ideas placed just right

to render a prism

coloring the most common

with The Divine

as if dust was once


water and time

Landing On Days End


A form still stands

color etching around

and throughout its branches

we see halfway between now

mountains speaking earth

a camera sensing light

a trees ghost holding friends

words too empty to tell

of all that comes and goes

stands and then sinks back

consumed by nightfall—

perched amidst stars

waiting for one to rise

songs to tempt colors return

from an ignorant abyss—

in this silence

waiting was worth

waiting for

Differing Reflections of August Light

Differing Reflections


-Waters many faces


-Hydrogen and Oxygen bonding


-The Soul of Life in Reflection


-These movements of August Light


(Home photo’s Aug 26 2009)

The Flower and Ignorance


A flower is beautiful

insects seem to love it

I watch it

It seems not to worry

but then that is my assumption

This is all well

this is all good

not to worry

but what is unseen

still is

worry or not

known or not

This can be the rub

a grain of sand on pure glass

fine sitting there

leaving no influence or mark

as long as weight never materializes

or unknown move into known

as if time does not record

all the narrative

not only plucked pedals

of comforting fantasy

This question can be ignored

for our own good sake

why worry my little mind

over things too small to see

why were they ever there at all?

the very nature of speculation

its unanswerable question

and those distant storms

what can I do to change them

wave my magic fan?

A flower may not know

of the scythe coming

it could not help the outcome

so why worry indeed

but for we gardeners

results have requirements

we know all is not appearance

to the health of the soil

for many invisible elements

thrive or starve in our silence

all is not harvest

though always we harvest

There is place for concern

tough it may make trouble

take my eyes off the flower

put them on

an oncoming blade

one onlookers think

is as inevitable

as fate

Another choice

not always the easy one

not always the pretty one

Life ask other questions

I may take a stand

not let poison be sprayed

use effort instead of easy promises

for ignoring the whole context

may spell the flowers last light

though those who do not know

do not know or perhaps care;

I matter not only to me

but to a Whole Creation

Yes in the name of goodness

in the name of right

the name of honor


and if willing

Truth itself

we shed our own light

for some purpose

is inevitable

as avoiding death

but not ignoring it;

death is not the point

but it is a point coming

There comes a time

when the choice is ugly

but a necessity

when it is painful

and yet one I

could not live without

not and say;

I could not help this revelation

I would have gotten dirty

my clothes torn, stained

what then would others think?

so celebrate and enjoy ignoring

for that sure is worry free

yet covered in destiny


Life may call

insist in rain or in drought

in vineyards heavy bent

or sun too much to take;

that I did what was required

but not only what was desired

by good looks alone

or lust for good times

running from the sun

or hiding from the rain


Wisdom is not always

caring for the easy path

the simplest one

nor the thrill of risk

Wisdom can be

standing neck deep in mud

knowing effort and patience

with not a friend to help

nor a bloom to be seen

in those who tend the soil

these raw elements

teeming with Life

time and space

carry other interest

waiting on open eyes

Not all living will exclude suffering

as appealing as that promise be

Wisdom can be at times

fact over fiction


over blissful ignorance

and happy endings


At times

Love is not easy

Love may not be

always pretty

but it is

all we ever have

that flowers deep

into living color

and true

giving back

more than I give

if I care for it