This World of Ours is but a receptacle for ancient words,
spoken in many tongues, in many understandings.

This World of Ours is but a perfected opportunity knocking on our doors.
Bid thee enter, this new way of Speaking,,,,

Break open the seed of Knowing in
every encounter. It is the truth of One’s
Being Who speaks and it is the truth of
One’s Being Who listens.

Listen not to the the words that are confusion itself,
listen to the purest love, the self-same One.
The speaker, the hearer…..

Look beyond the cloud of Unknowing
into your heart, the answer is Here,
bidding “enter”…..

It is but an ancient memory…….. a New Human Being about to be born….
It needs sunlight.


How deep is the colourless ocean
when the warm sand lies
beneath our feet?

How far does your voice carry
in the still of the night
on the other side
of I?

How high is the moon we move
with child-like fingers?

We have no homes now,
silk-skinned Vagabonds
in Sacred Poems
we gather,
like starlight
an oasis of dreams,

fierce Lovers.

Birth: Unknown.


“Take my hand and lead me to Salvation for Love is Everlasting”

“To love another person is to see the face of God”

are words from Les Miserables, a musical we do not learn to Love except by Learning to Love Oneself this Light, this Vibration, further reaches to All who would feel, see, and touch, Love and sometimes if we are very very aware, we See the Beloved , who may have been waiting for us in Silent Recognition

Death: Alive

Teaching Style: Yahoo Group participation, one-on-one emails, monologues, dialogues and group discussions.



The sky holds no animosity
to even the darkest of clouds,
gathering bolts of lightning
and thundering crashes
like vengeful tools of angry gods.

The sepia earth shows no rancor
with the children of a lesser god
even as weapons of mass destruction
fall by the wayside,
erode with time, rust in the belly
of the proverbial beast,
slow vines growing green
like tentacles of forgiveness

The ocean of endless salt, the rivers of
cool sweetness harbor no resentment
to the muck of oil and the garbage decay of
a hundred million civilizations,
even as life slowly disappears like the bleeding-heart
dove, and the Great Barrier Reef breaks down
and returns to its nothing.

Yet the Mother of all possibilities gives us a chance
once again as the sun also rises to make peace with
ourselves before the Last Poem of Earth disappears
right before our eyes.


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