sticky wheels

wheels

within wheels

lies

within truths

truths

within lies

good intentions mixed with fear

create a sticky sneaky web

the power suckers and the fact seekers alike

get stuck on it

beneficial endeavors become corrupted

because human hearts still hold onto forms

and fear the loss of control

but the original pure knowledge is incorruptible

it shines golden for those who search for it instead of the forms that try to carry it

they know there is no boundary that can encompass it

and no power that can control it

Invasion of Love

Let Love invade their hearts with sorrow for their deeds of hate;
For the pain they have spitefully or coolly inflicted,
Let them perceive how broken and diseased they have become.
Let the veil be lifted from their eyes.
Let their knees kneel under the weight of this terrible understanding,
beneath the quake that releases the sobs of their remorse;
So that even these beings can be healed,
And see their Beauty as a stranger coming to rescue them from their dungeons.

Pity the haters, the manipulators and defilers of truth and beauty, the destroyers.
Send them pure love that seeps through tiny crevices and cracks of the strongest fortresses,
Or builds to a great wave that no malevolence can face.
Only love can dissolve hate.
Only light can purify the mind.
Only forgiveness can bring peace.

Precious People

Come, let's put on our eyes of love;
I think we have a few pairs,
Somewhere.
There's something to see, trapped between the layers of their lives,
What you do not expect to recognize --

The treasure,

The golden light,

The greatness and the beauty and the sweetness and

Everything we hope to find

In Paradise.

They never seem to see it, no,

They don't really believe in it --

Their innocense,

Living out a life sentence instead of a life.

You must look behind

The bitter facial lines,

Accusing glares,

Smirking mouths,

Attacking stares.

You can see through their walls

And down their halls

Into their secret cellars of light --

Golden treasures locked up tight.

Precious people.

We were made to be the lovers;

Not to waste our time in fear.

Come, let's put on our eyes of love and see--

Precious people.

Not Quite Yet

I went down to the shop of horrors.
Crazy mirrors showed me everything.
Spent all my tickets on reflections -
Nothing scarier than what I saw that day.

Gathering all these poor Mis-Shapens,
I stuffed them into a grocery bag.
Tangled whispers pleading, muttering -
I take them so they cannot follow.

Along the way more mirrors leered.
I wonder how much more can fit.
I cannot leave this lot behind,
Nor can I bring myself to look.

Clouds are gathering in my chest,
Whirlpools circle round my gut.
So heavy, so hard to keep this ol bag closed.
I'm almost ready for the Storm -

- But not quite yet . . .