The independent, or guru-free,
meditator,
has no close companions
except other independent meditators.
This relationship is not like sharing rays of light,
but like sharing freedoms.

The space between my thoughts
Is where I want to be
Breathing in, breathing out
Time stands still

My heart and lungs as a piston
No thoughts now, no thoughts then
The piston moves up , moves down
That's all there is

Calm, no storm
Calm, no fear
Smiling I look up
Deep breath in and..
back to reality

Allow me the time …
To stand and stare,
To ponder on the how and where,
To lose myself in thoughtfulness,
To unknot my mind’s tangled mess,
To consider and to meditate,
To transform into a Zen like state,
To notice reflections and reflect,
To self-diagnose and introspect,
To absorb all of nature’s treasure,
And to enjoy this age old pleasure,
Allowing my heart to beat more slowly,
Not thinking all creatures are below me,
To quietly try to comprehend,
The meaning of life and to what end,
To allow my soul to come into view,
To allow my spirit to mend, renew.

Carved from marble,
                                                   marvelous and draped in my covers,
                                        floating above my head in a puff of smoke or
                                                                ­                 as a cartoonish memory

I stay in bed today,
peeking through the blinds.
Surrounded by no one but my
soft and artificial menagerie,
I'm bubbling at the lip.

There are sacks of rice sitting
right above my hips and they're
heavy. Who will help me hold them?
Pressing a thumb to the surface and wincing;
I can feel the grains shifting under my skin.

Today I cooked the rice.
                                                           ­                                             
                   ­                                                                 ­               , I swear.
Heat built up in the *** til steam was lifting off my skin^
Hard crunchy bits to tenderize,
softening under the lid.

When I felt that click,
I broke out my wooden spoon
and ate a big plate.
The warm fluffy substance blessed my full cheeks and belly.
For the first time,
I felt like I wasn't hungry.

Maybe tomorrow when I bathe
I'll grow 3 or 4 times my size.
Water-logged
I will fill up the tub,
ceramic squeezing my fleshy form into a
rectangular shape.

Stick a spoon in
and eat me piece by piece.

Listen,
if stars are still lit it means there is someone who needs them.
It means someone wants to love,
Why then do we feel so much pain and heaviness of heart?
are we waiting for something, regretting anything?
To whom I can strech out my hand in the somber desert?
Who will accompany me on the empty night?
Who will give me a fiery day?
Who will bring back the sea that left?
No hope here. Torment is certain.
Without sacredness in the emptiness of this world of ours,
the heart of man fades like a flower.  
Suddenly, the shuddering of the heavens penetrating my soul,
Oh never let the parting sun, no star is ever lost we once have seen, the long rains will continue to fall.