breathe...

Breathing this light

I now remember

Constellations and churned turnips

Bathing my soul

Resplendent fervor

Inundating the cove

I call heart

Breathing this sound

I now can feel

Dancing Jupiters and

Crying rainbows

Beckoning my spirit 

Back into freedom

Far from illusion

Breathing this taste

Of the afterlife 

Here and now

Where it truly resides

I can now see

The missing color to the secret lives

We all live

But want to forget

Every time 

Slumber falls upon us

Breathing this touch

The thousand arms of the serpent goddess

Welcome my being

Her embrace and hearth

Now fuel 

The wheel of my being

Spinning me

Into the growing existence

Breathing this air

Reassures me that I AM

Alive

Well

Divine

Let your mantra be YUM, not Yuck.

forgotten decree

In the receptacle of the king
a fair march preceded
the ultimate decree:


man & woman must love above all,
love everything equally
and continuously

this was a royal order
 of the highest importance


supposed to be carried out immediately


so,
what happened people?

How Wonderful

The sun has a saddle on its back
where we all sit
and chant prayers
that we then weave into its rays of light.

The moon owns a bar down the alley
every 28 days its business hours 
are enjoyed by a select few
that know how to make her blush.

Love in disarray

Today's sun

can be called abnormal

lacking luster and aroma

Buffer time

absorbs the blow

with a complication

We won't wait

control

tried and true

That's what we're after

its purpose is anonymous

only the immediate comfort is visible

and the light at the end of the tunnel

ends up burning us

and dismay grows 

when the pain of one becomes shared

by a multitude of moths

happily singed

by the ever burning flame

of a love in disarray

This Time

This time when everyone is jolly

is so very cold 

to more than my bones

This time when I see happy shadows

reflected off colorful strings of light

turns my own into the mush it wants to become

This time has always been the same

even when surrounded with those who truly care

my heart has always felt disdain for this wonderful time of the year

This time and that one too

they come happily holding hands 

all i do is sit and watch

For nothing moves me on this time

aside from a few films and the odd treat

gifts come wrapped with more than shinny paper

sentiments hidden and unspoken

wrap around these things we distribute

we fruitlessly hope to make amends 

By buying things

we try to buy love

and when it doesn't work

We are encouraged to buy some more

to be traded and handed 

in a stock market exchange

For the White Hawk

On the steaming earth of the red desert, a pair of weary feet prance a painful dance of spreading light. The luminous seeding feet belong to a being who is in the earth, yet not of it. White Hawk Angel. Has been walking for two decades or so. The body-vehicle given to him had to adapt to his incredible light, it enlarged and molded to the force of spirit emanating from his core. The result of this effort has left him with a musical wrist, movable knees, a very tall complexion and a malleable face that contorts to perform.
Laughter and song are the seeds he prefers to plant on this particular walk.
As with many other light spreaders, this particularly luminous being has encountered steep physical difficulties. Misunderstanding and addictions have plagued his sphere of being without warning. The good fight isn't good to the good fighters, and they all know this prior to the battle.
As he lifts the heads of those that listen to him, his spirit, his ultimate and eternal essence grows and expands, and this effect is highly contagious.
His path is shielded from the hidden side lines, he is always taken care of and there are forces that are making sure he stays on this plane until there is a change.
My encounter with him keeps replaying itself on the screen of my thoughts. The laughs shared and the brave condition to laugh at the difficulties and just keep on going, are the probably the two biggest gifts i received from this Angel.
May you live well and prosper in love and gratitude forever, my dear Gavin.
Can't wait to see you again.

Tenaciously yours,

Nico. "little red hawk"

when they come
we will see
when they come
more will beam
when they come
the ostrich will run against the wind
when they come
the clouds shall part
when they come
areas will not be forged
homes will not be lost
pain will not be painted
over the faces
or the hedges
when they come
and they tell you they've been here
all along
you will say
'ahh, it felt like you were'

food
for
thought.