It's bringin' me down you know,
'cause they're selling me lies
in their well-manicured ties
and I just saw the
Buddha
was on sale.

'Cause I'll search and I'll find
in the temple of my own mind,
that this guarantee was
never in stock.

In seeking a higher calling,
I fell on the ground, stalling;
recommitted now
to getting my act
together.

In the silence of the night
and through the darkness of despair,
I called out for a teacher,
I prayed that you were there.

I wanted to be just like them,
a rishi,
a sage,
writing poetry for God;
I wanted to be
a wise one.

Though my faith was shaken,
I remained undeterred.
The coming of the ego was
the making of the man.

I was bought to my knees.

Humbled.
Shattered.
Battered
Smashed.

I no longer doubt the strength in one's own being.
I don't doubt the love of one's own heart.

Some may call it a rebirth,
some may say born again.
Whatever the words,
the intent is clear.
For that I say:
Thank You.

We're both in this moment
together
as one.
You and me.
I and I.

I can see it in your eyes;
your heart's with mine.
How beautiful that we're
together
as one
beyond the physical.

A kiss,
a touch,
a whisper in the ear.
The telling of secrets,
the removal of fear.

The flaws of the flawless,
how remarkable you are.
Hold me for this moment,
hold me tight and
never let go.

The brewing of the morning;
to set aside my idleness.
The taste of motivation,
an end to procrastination.
The writer chooses their words
as an archer aims for their mark.
Yep.
I think I'll have another cup.

As I walk down the street
I wear many different faces,
I'm known by many different names and
I play many different characters.
I exist as many and I exist as one.

Though we meet many times,
each time is a meeting of different people.
As you shift I transform,
as I transform you shift.
We create each other;
what's mine is yours, yours mine.
There exists no separation between us,
we are one
together always.

As I pass through the hallway,
I hear the ticking of the clocks;
the tapping of the watch.
There's a step in my walk,
as I move from heel to toe.

Forwards, backwards.

I enter the room,
I'm greeted by the solemnness of the chair.
A glance at the clock,
its position on the wall,
so precise and careful.
I take a seat and lay down the strike of the pen.

The passing of the moment.

I take a look up at the hands,
they say to me:
"We only move one way".
A quizzical look.
"And what way would that be?"
Silence.

I put down the pen,
moving my eyes over what was written.
Mutterings
of marbled musings.
Tales
of scornful sorrows.
Words
of lyrical regret.

A thought spoken aloud:

"How did I come to be here?”

Another glance at those hands.

"How long has it been?"

The shortage of memory.
Only silence and
the passing of the moment.

The pang of nervousness hit,
struck and left to fend;
like a fish on a hook.

His mind paced with thoughts,
a train, they roared
here and there,
with no destination in sight.

In this guy's imagination,
he could bear it all.
A conjuring of answers,
to questions never sought.

In the flash of the moment,
he let fear take hold.
The worry of messing up;
of not knowing what to say.

Freestyling in his head,
he gave direction to his mind.
A statement of results
of work and hard luck.

Acceptance
in a union of one.
As the sun still shines
behind the clouds,
so too,
does this light still shine on.