Whatever souls are made of
Cannot be gauged or weighed
They are not a Will O the Wisp
Neither light nor shade
They're not made of ether
Nor in the ground are laid

They can't be poured or measured
They're neither young nor old
They don't have a temperature
Neither hot nor cold
They don't have a price tag
Neither bought nor sold

Whatever souls are made of
They're not chiffon nor lace
They're not helmet or khaki green
They have no mortal face
And when they leave the body
They're gone without a trace

Is the soul emotion?
Mind, or so it seems?
Is it something like a vapor?
Something like a steam?
Is there a place called heaven...
Or is it all a dream?

So many opinions
So many thoughts to weave
Here is my opinion
Here's what I believe...

If they have a presence
They're a hand within a glove
They can touch and hear and feel
Need nobody to dub
They can fly on wings of ravens
Or are as gentle as a dove
They are made to search for God

They're made just search for love.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/2/2016

"You who are the Source of all Power,
whose rays illuminate the World.
Illuminate also my Heart,
so that it too can do your Work."
- Gayatri Prayer

...and so Alas, for all along the way
binding Vision with naïveté
spritely skipping as whilst tripping
blinding Truth in night-less day.

though I raise my Palm in promise
I'm as raptured as the rest
uprooted as the lute to lip
charmingly disarming
as the sounding Sirens drip...

the Nectar,
flowing freely from the Fruit
above the Vine, below the Root.

...so may your Wine flow pleasingly & plenty, drunken Bliss upon the Earth
appealing to the healing of All intrinsic worth.

Like the flower, in it's hour of unfolding
bursting Blossom lips
upon the Altar, pierce my Heart fully open, as the Sun and Moon eclipse.

So through this selfless sacrifice,
release the pains of worldly strife.

...and may the Truth bless us Be
within this briefly Mystic blink
in our Moment of reflection with the Universal wink.

*I raise my Cup to thee All ~Cheers!!!!

Glory to the sacrifice that happens in the hidden night, the silent acts of selflessness for which a nation fights.

Yet ridiculed and condemned for changing a 50 year long cycle, far too worn in to be seen as anything but spiteful.

Lost in calculated measures never possessing any direction, still terrible are those who work to make the right corrections.

Holding on to ridge tradition that's forgotten it's own place in time, never fully realizing that it had crossed it's own imaginary line.

Knowing is the key to flowing with the winds of change, even though to many might see it all as strange...we cannot deny the only constant, the certainty of change.

An original creation, that's what  you are
in vibrant colors nature carefully assembled,
as you sashayed through your time,till here
now all across the front page one can see you
arousing  pleasure that moves me deeply,
done in bold sweeps of a brush immersed in joy
making onlookers stand agape, thrilled
mumbling inanities as none has the grasp
of the quicksilver aesthetics that rules you.

And I, obscure , at the best like a crop circle
done in the secret hours after midnight,
or a cryptic mural on a dull wall, long past it's prime
doodled by an interplanetary traveler gone astray,
a drawing in grey fading slowly in to oblivion,
yet to be deciphered is the benediction,
it carries from light years far away,
it will be gone soon as the light from galaxies far
want to make it their own, little by little each night
Am I not transient  and  to be forgotten soon?

But you are steadfast and adamant
very rooted in your reasoning
sprung from a center devine, we both
claim together.
                         "Am I not a woman and lover first?"
Your eyes, gleam, exuding  a timelessness that speaks to me.
"I would only dream of lying naked under your
sweet heaving heaviness, to receive the nectar,
the transient ecstasy that gifts me the precious seed
that'd grow to heights immortal,on the bank of the milky way"

"Aren't you now tired of that green?
different from the zeitgeist once was
the ****** pulsation existed all along with me!
I can see it in the movement  of yours
when I  deep kiss you, not there, you are!
it's too long, our liaison, my love listen,
now it's time for a change, haven't you
seen the clouds in quick changing formations?
Yes, rest you need and a period of leisure
would do you good.You have to don a hue
to suit to to the mood, and yellow it is"
The setting sun,languidly to the leaf said aloud.
She felt the relief, she unhurriedly received
his words  purple tinted.pointing the direction.

The mountain wind, when the leaf  was green,
an intense lover, moved her,always.
A leaf callow and green in the wind,
passion personified, during the gale she was
the aggressive partner, demanding more,
"You are hanging here for long,on this branch,
knowing all, now time to let go, hear the music
permeating through dust and clouds and lives
transform yourself, you have danced enough
with me here, change pace, let go, begin
a journey new and find, what the cosmic hum
tells to every single cell, and what's in the end,
get ready to take newer forms from now on my love"

Wind took her by hand and she let go every thing
and naked to the soul, she jumped in to the deep below,
a valley, in ferment, flowers, fruits and leaves
in abundance, stood with bated breath,
beckoning, welcoming, cheering the fallen leaf,
the last dance it was,with the wind and sun,
in whispers the wanton wind told her" time to go,
feel light and explore, discover the secrets still left"

Earth, red and fertile was much pleased, smiled at her,
"Come down beloved, here I lie in wait, impatient,
this is your bed, not a minute late you are, here
as before in the appointed hour,you are aware
at any time you have to end up as the salt of the earth,
you'll love it here as much you did on a flowering branch,
bit by bit like the fragments of a cloud in blue sky,
you will become one with me; the fecund muddy earth,
new seeds with a vision encrypted inside will fall on you
get nourished by what your love donates and would sprout.

It is summer and soon the Perseid showers
I have gone from my desert home
I wander far from crowded towns
my feet in grassy, bee clover
deep summer, all daisy flowered
green leaves, wild blackberries
await the August sun fire.

Here amid the slowing of mars retrograde
of my love returning home too late
no long goodbye, only the weight
I watch oceans of seaweed sway
at night the phosphorescence
the lonesome of sea stars trailing.

Much adored is the dead poet

Within the glass case
Away from dirt
Amongst the books pressed
Rests his heart

Such was the silence he dreamed
When words streamed
Like riverine flow
In all might arose
Seeking the order in chaos

Orderly bound now his name
In peace standing behind wooden frame
Yet with the ceaseless commotion of wait...

Much adored rests the dead poet.