The Poetry, Prose, and Short Stories of Dan Rosenhagen The Writing Forum’s Writer of the Month - May 2010   AUTHOR’S BIO: Dan Rosenhagen was born in 1951 in Niles Michigan. Being in the era of the baby boomers, he has experienced the changes in the American social structure and spiritual awareness from the 60s to the present. Never being satisfied with “organized” religions, he fashioned his ideologies from a bank of knowledge acquired from his interests in religions across the globe and back in time. He has blended his ideas of inner self and sacred truths with theories in quantum physics, theology and eastern philosophy and fused them with Spiritualism. Dan has been a "side walk" student of Carl Jung, Alan Watts, Wilhelm Reich, Arthur Ford, Edger Cayce, Zen, Eastern Philosophy, Tao, Quantum Physics, Fractals, etc. To read my short stories published here at The Writing Forum, click here. For my Epic Poems page, please click here. Dan has three books published. Please click here for all the information. To access Dan’s personal website, “Living Mirrors” click here. To visit Dan’s place at YouTube, “Philosophy of the Soul” click here. To visit Dan’s pages at Authors Den click here. Email: danrosenhagen3@yahoo.com   “And when the rains lay their wetness onto the soil, it will be as the joining of the sacred seeds of a man and woman. And the rain is absorbed into the thirsty earth and from it life is born. The laws of nature are unleashed and transform lifelessness into life. The Greatest Act………… of love.” ~Dan Rosenhagen   POETRY AND PROSE BY DAN ROSENHAGEN Click on the button in front of any poem title below to be linked to that poem:   Furrows   Monster   Men and Beasts   Once upon a twilight   A seed must be buried   Entity of God   Rejection   This mystery   Lost and found   Steady hand of the archer   Where love comes from   What was I thinking   Brown sparrow   No hope of going home   Doors   My Temple   Lives to learn   The Unfolding   Star bright   Formless in rule   Roots   A dangerous endeavor   Love without words   Let it be said   The only thing   Stand in the garden   Truth   Faith   The Strength of Arrogance   I had been blind   Feeling   Consciousness   Origin of beauty   It’s ok to cry once   For them   The Sum of All   Words Etched in Stone   Upon a Second Look   Passionate Stars   Acceptance   The Garden of Time   The Union   With Angel’s Touch   Expressions Everlasting   Love’s contrasting addiction   In Time   Captains Are We   Yesterday- NOW- Tomorrow   The Progression   Where my secrets lie   Who’s in the Mirror?   Elegant pose   Intake Sufferer   The thought of you   Blue Velvet   It goes on forever   Furrows My eyes scan the liquid desert for signs of life in the sad grey mist, only the fog caressing the sea as if they were to kiss, and webbed feet and wing tips scratching furrows in the glass upon their lazy lift. In my silence I can hear the whispers from a thousand empty rooms, careful not to be overheard, the secrets of the sea are sealed by the weight of the misty gloom. all the souls of yesteryear would be saved within its gift, flocks of winging entities dancing on the solar wind's resist, white feet and wing tips scratching furrows in the clouds If I could put time in a bottle I would set it adrift, to sail to another dimension where it does not exist, upon their lazy lift.   Monster Fear hides from our view, a monster undiscovered. What man is not dumbfounded by its darkness, rather than to be enlightened from its brightness? A river approached the edge of the waterfall.  Its silent eddies and currents willingly submit to their destiny, as they plummet onto the boulders and basin below. And the plunge renders a beautiful hovering mist, pierced by the majestic bending of a rainbow. If the river feared what was in its path, would it then have become a desert to escape the unknown? And when man faces dying, the angel of death gracefully opens her beckoning wings. Be it that he would then quiver, as would a sprig enduring a storm? Rather then but to break his mortal symmetry onto the stars and galaxies, rendering a misty cloud, impaled by the colorful array of his nova? Like the irony of a great story, where upon a woman consumed a goblet of poison, thinking her lover was dead, only but to be mistaken. Then so is the man whose devastating fear feeds his ignorance to death, mistakingly unknowing of the monster's eternal truth.   Men and Beasts The merciless winter freezes solid the hearts of men and beasts, and transforms the summers beauty into only sighing memories and grieving moments once joyful. But all these things matter not to a delicately fragile seed who quietly sleeps, and dreams of beautiful tomorrows.   Once upon a twilight Would it not be for the conception of dawn that I would be forever swallowed whole into the cold dark spaces within the throat and belly of night. Whence I came here to overflow my cupped hands with silver moon beams that glisten with knowledge far brighter than that of snow white covered mountain peaks, in sight of the wisdom of valleys and streams. Be that I came for the promise of summits laden with pure white star dust and the visions of many tomorrows, unveiling the secrets that dwell beyond the thresholds of time. I came here to share the yearnings of my soul with the lonely stars desperate to be suckled by the seeds of life, fulfilling their instinct for motherhood, but have only to become the deeds of lovers and men, and the rudders that steer wayward ships. If this has been but a demon of darkness that has devoured me, I would find only for that of my destitute and sorrow. But then to find myself in the womb of twilight, in which to give birth to the dawn of a new day, and the very moment wrapped in the arms of the sun, as it gives and gives to us its passionate embrace, like a great ocean flooding the earth with love, it's dream then realized, when on that day it sees its own beauty for the very first time, as our conscious selves open our eyes.     A seed must be buried Lonely ocean of ebony air, black sand beaches with empty stares. Stars and galaxies losing their ways, abandoned desires for creating new days. Upon the verandas of a tormented mind, far away on its horizon the sun tries to shine. A seed must be buried before it can grow, then liberated from its darkest hole. The deep silent well of the spiral's abyss, is the place where a new understanding of life and love exist.   Entity of God There once was a man who could not see the entity of God himself, but only to see his Divine Glory in all living things. This outraged the church. For they excommunicated this man, as he did not acknowledge the symbols and metaphors in their doctrines, the ones that stood for the living things he so loved.   Rejection When an archer flings at you an arrow fashioned from the thorny stem of rejection, his aim need not be true. Even being sent without precision, like water running into a funnel, it will find its mark. Though his arrow is not fatal, its ridged spines will scar the hearts foundation, that supports the temple of self-esteem. As the arrow's talons lacerate the inner walls in the cathedral of this house of houses, the sighs of pain and the shaking of its unsteady structure, can be heard echoing in the most sensitive chambers of the soul. And the only medicine, is faith. And the only council, is reason. And the carpenter of self-trust, will repair the damage of your tempest. And you will then know that the archer only rejected his own ability to love, when he raised his bow.   This mystery One day the ocean asked the air to caress its placid skin. The air loved the ocean, for in it was its own reflection. Whispers and nudglings of soft breezes at ease, currents of movement the sea’s ripples released. Still waters silence broken by the crash of a wave, no longer in bondage, may all mariners be saved. The breeze could not control its love for the sea, they say, they tossed and turned in a passionate display. A storm was raging as these elements made love, losing their minds as they pushed and they shoved. Man has witnessed the fury of these entities, never thinking that love is the catalyst, of this mystery.   Lost and found Once a man found a beautiful blue crystal-shaped stone. He loved the stone so much that he kept it in his pocket for safe keeping and would reach for it from time to time throughout the day, whenever he wanted to reflect on its beauty. He then found a feather he adored so much he decorated his hat with the scarlet quill, making him feel happy and special. The man knew a woman he deeply loved. And he kept her in a safe place too, in a velvet lined chamber in his heart.  And from time to time the man could feel her heart beating inside of his. On a day he will not soon forget, he noticed the stone had escaped his pocket, through a hole worn there by its constant presence. He searched for it by the edge of the sea where he had recently spent some time. But then without warning, his feather came loose from his hat, as the morning sea breeze lifted it high into the air until it was gone from sight. After a long while of searching amongst the beaches' many treasures he came across a stone that was flat but it shinned like a diamond, and he was content to have it. On his way home he found a small brown wren whose feathers were ruffled and some were missing, and it could not fly. He thought, "I too have lost a feather,  so I will care for you, little bird." Soon he found himself in the presence of the woman he loved. That evening they sat together holding hands, telling their tales of the day's passing, thinking to themselves how much they were in love with life. They then witnessed the sun plant the beautiful array of its light into the furrow of the horizon, as if planting the seed of tomorrows' dawning. They quietly listened to the song bird's cry of love, feeling so fortunate to have each other, being cared for, and never to be lost or forgotten.   Steady hand of the archer Empty quivers lay scattered covering the ground like autumn leaves. Long bows bent and whistle in the wind, like fallen tree limbs in an eerie breeze. Their strings are rotting, broken and frayed, burnt out ribbons from arrows relentless showering parade. Bull's eyes stare at a matador's red cape, shaped like a precious heart, but there is no escape. Set free for me, all my lovely white doves. Painful arrows from the archer find their mark, only when sent from the one that you love.   Where love comes from In our lives the world has certainly changed. In its present complicated state, what we see are evolved situations of a past now rearranged. Too much information in a short amount of time, overflowing rivers, their banks cannot confine. Love is heaven, the universe and hell, everything that ever was, everything that is, and whatever will time tell. Walk slowly through its opaque corridors, they are fashioned into an endless maze, some of them lead to beautiful gardens where we are content to live out our days. But remember that as we lose ourselves in this glass of intoxicating wine, our utopia did not come from the grape, rather it came from the suffering toil of the root, and the impending growth of the vine.   What was I thinking?   In my mind I planted a seed, what I see, I think I need, what I need, I think I see, what I think is right for me.   A seed of thought in a natural process, it grows in size, this is a test.   If we try to manage what we desire, the life of the seed may never grow higher.   It branches away from upward flight, adjacent to what we think we need is right.   Like a body of water, it seeks its own level, controlling these thoughts can lead to trouble.   To let the seed grow toward the sun, I’ll tell you what must be done. A thought from birth cannot grow higher, if we feed its roots with what we think we need and desire.   Let its growth be natural and free, and not influenced by desires, that we think we see and need.   Brown sparrow What is there not to understand in the sparrow’s song, not the most harmonious of birds and his shades of brown are beyond compare to the beauty of the cardinal or a canaries flair. My heart has in its center that which is a brown sparrow, and its wings flutter feverously, desperately trying to free my heart’s love, if not for its cage, which is itself the structure of thine heart. Then one day I spoke of this to a friend, and she asked me if she could feel my heart to see for herself. And when she placed her soft hand on my chest, to her surprise she felt life in the sparrow’s wings. She then asked me if she could see the sparrow’s loving flight. I wasn’t sure if I knew how to show her, but I imagined to then open my heart for her to see. At once the door of the cage flung open and the sparrow’s wings carried my love to her eyes, and to the places time has forgotten. Now I see the most beautiful brown sparrow, and his lovely song renders tears of joy, from the empty skies’ loneliest of clouds.   No hope of going home A small drop of water pitched into a puddle from a rogue wave was trapped and could not get back to its mother sea. It was HOPELESS, It WAS hopeless. There was no way, ALL hope was gone. The only thing left for the life of the tiny drop of water was to eventually disappear, turning to mist and forgotten from its time on earth. But what beauty comes I say? When the rain seeds the ocean with the freshness of new life, life which had once dissipated from the place in time where it once was alone, and there was no hope of going home.   Doors The doors of a closed mind are weather-worn and battered on the inside from the persistently pounding waves of truth and understanding, desperately testing the escape routes that block their thresholds.   My Temple I greet my solitude with gratitude. It is a place which is crowded with the dreams and emotions of humanity stretching out like tree limbs, and whose branches like roots grasp for the nourishment only found in the eddies and back waters of infinity. And when I follow their journey's path with mind's eye, it leads me to a place at the edge of time, where I find myself looking through the windows of my temple of solitude.   Lives to learn The Universe attempted to look at itself, but did not have eyes to see and could only know that it existed by just being free, and from this it could then feel its freedom and beauty moving within its bosom. And then there was man, who with his eyes could see the universe, but lives to learn how to feel the freedom of its movements within the beauty of his inner self.     The Unfolding We ask questions but there are only answers we have yet to understand, Unfolding, blossoms are unfolding, revealing the universe unfolding, Slowly, slow, very slow. The blood of karma binds us; we are everything that is behind us, surging storms never to blind us, but to shower us with wisdom to be all that we are, and all of the things we have effected, like the life we have been given, from the light and heat of a star.   Star bright Why do we love so deeply, is it because we are scared? I pour out my heart and soul to you, as if the shield of my body was not there. Hold on forever to that which you love, even when it's gone. Don't be blinded by the past, it can make you strong. Don't be afraid to be yourself, you are all you have. Understand what are inside your dimensions, your compassions, your passions are the keys to your ascension. The winds of change can be difficult to accept, but if you love thyself you will be free to project. It becomes a natural event to become what you are, there in the night's sky the brightest star.   Formless in rule What then of coolness which congeals the mist but to liquid’s pool? Temperately swirling element formless in rule. As the sun’s caressing flames stroke the mirror’s fluidic skin, its foggy ghosts are set free to mingle with the trees down lazy river bends. Their callings are silent arrows flung from stump hollows and soggy hill, sent blindly through the night on white winged ravens and the strength of whippoor’s will. Now they have broken through the shell of their cocoon and set free, as they are forever rising above their past we see, their Mist-ical whisper showing us what we will be, everyone………including you and me. I think of that day that we are touched by the light of the sun’s Catalystic kiss, liberated as we are released from our solid state, rendering us into mist.   Roots It is no wonder the fruits of a tree display beautiful color, succulent flavor and are the bounty of the tree's roots, and beneath their skins are the seeds of a new life. Thus mankind can be imagined then as the fruits that hang from the branches, born from the roots of life.   A dangerous endeavor Love is a dangerous endeavor. Its costumes are the masks of passion and desire, hiding the loneliness of two fragile hearts. Motivated by the restlessness of the souls yearning to be complete, transcending the boundaries of earth, even before they have ascended from the unknowing of their eternal adolescence. And although the fear of the unknown surrounds their engagement, they are willing to risk life and death for the chance to come closer to divinity than ever before, having what they have not had and becoming what they have not been. As they come together, be not that from the weight of their hearts they fall from the loftiness of the heavens, plummeting onto a sea of stone, only to shatter. But be that rather as the freedom of movements in the wind kissing the sea, in that the sea then is blessed with the breath of life that is oxygen, and the air is graced with the emotions of storms and rain.   Love without words There have been countless doctrines written on the subject of religion and faith. Men inspired by their beliefs with the passion to share the ideas of their meanings, to interpret for us the wisdom of God. Who spoke to them but to not have the sound of words? And what of men who did not live with words thus not knowing of reading? I say then that the ways of God were spoken by the barberry whispering to the pampas, the song of the meadowlark echoing amongst the white birch and pine, the feather grass absorbing the rays of the sun, and listening with them were milk weed and fern. And there amongst them was man lying near the iris, feeling the messages offered in the movement of the wind.   Let it be said The event of life is a beautiful curving rainbow stretching from infinity all the way across the heavens, arching downward to the pot of gold, its golden treasure, human consciousness.   The only thing Sweet life, she is a mysterious lady, my lips taste the salt on the nape of your warm tender neck. You have laughed at me in my spring session, I was a dandelion, and then my playful seeds blew away like cotton butterflies on wind’s wing. When summer came to be, you still cared for me with a mother's concern, ”you can’t be serious” I thought. I remember now, the heat from her sun my skin to burn. Reckless bats in deep caves they rave, we were brave, riding the curl of their radar waves, I was taught their patterns of flight, and this wisdom I saved. A beam of light is not solid my friend. There are intervals of darkness between the brightness she sends. Now the autumn calls me, and I know she watches for me with a smile. Freedom is what she has given me, I unfold my arms gently blossoming, I give my heart to her, which is the only thing.   Stand in the garden We must wait for the moment that transforms our flesh into dust, just as we must wait for the very next moment to reveal life’s changes to us. For until those moments arrive, we must stand in the garden of reason, in which yields the flowers of faith.   Truth Truth can be heard in the honesty of a lion’s roar. Truth can be felt in the blistering heat of the committed sun.. It can also be surmised from one elevation to the next, in the changing of a mountain terrain. But what truth can be uttered from a tongue through ones lips, ‘less it first travels from the center of their soul, moving through the center of their heart? Know that to understand it as truth, it must also pass through the center of our hearts, being able to dwell in the center of our souls. Let then no truths live only in the houses of our passions or desires, or even our dreams. .For those houses will be only then to crumble, leaving our hearts and souls grieving amongst the ruins for what has been lost.   Faith  There are moments when I stand next to divinity, and there are moments when an Eagle flies to such heights, as to where I cannot know it to even be an Eagle. And yet in my mind, heart and soul, I have the understanding, love and faith to know that it is. And I hear the song of the wind playing through its pinions.   The Strength of Arrogance There once walked arrogant men upon the earth. But there was one who was a pillar of a man. A braggart he was, and he loved only his vanity.  His physical strength was to marvel at.  He stood at the edge of a village, and with the loudest of voices he proclaimed: “I am the strongest of men, I can heft up anything on my back and carry it without strain.” A farmer came to him and asked; ”this is my mule, can you lift him?” In a moment’s time the arrogant man flung the mule up on his back and paraded around town, merrily singing.  Then the man traveled to the jungle, he bragged to an elephant of his strength. The elephant said; “you may be strong but surely you cannot lift me.” Without hesitation the man threw the elephant up on his back and ran through the jungle screaming how strong he was.. He then was traveling to another place to show off his strength, when he crossed paths with a wise man. “I am the strongest and most beautiful man, I can lift anything, and who are you I ask,” The old man spoke; “who I am is of no importance, I am only a servant unto myself and to that which can only be seen from within. I think I have something for you to challenge your strength.”  Puzzled the braggart shouted; “Enough old man, what could you ever have that I could not lift?” And he laughed in the old man’s face. The wise man looked at him with worry, “This weight that I have can only be lifted by the truest and kindest of hearts, by one who can be humble, and one who can accept change, even if it was almost too much to bear.  Now the arrogant man was angry. “Give it to me “now” old man.” And the old man slowly removed it from himself and placed it on the braggarts back. From its weight the braggart’s facial expression became stressful.  Pain could be seen in the tears falling from his squinting eyes. Sweat escaped from every pore in his skin. And then his knees started to buckle, as he could not carry the weight of life’s love,   I had been blind When I opened the window everything was different, I felt a breeze on my face with the fragrance of Hyacinths. I opened a door and to my surprise, when I stepped past its threshold, it was as if…… for the first time, I opened my eyes. Cascading fields flowing waves through the rye. birds winging music upon the fretless air in the sky, freedom’s songs without directions or a care to deny. Then what came next,……………….I opened my mind. My imagination then realized, that I had been blind.   Feeling Touching touch………feeling..…….touching and being touched. Warm delightment skin………excitement expanding from within ‘Tis only a hand upon the skin, innocence cries, storming storms, moving skies, crumbling mountains, ocean shore-lines are compromised, I see the lightning FLASH in your eyes. Touching touch……...feeling………touching and being touched.   Consciousness A man looked up at the universe and said; "You are so vast and so deep and beautiful. From seeing your magnificence I must say that I love you". At that very moment the brilliant flare of a comet streaked across the sky with fire glowing from the long tail behind its orb. Then the universe looked at the man and spoke; "If not for you, who then would realize the existence of the universe? And if not for your realization of me, how then could you realize your own self?" "For the universe is inside you, as you are the nucleus of the universe whose emotion radiates from your center, as does a star.   Origin of beauty Beauty is a delicate feather resting in the gentle palm of an open hand. Some would say; the beauty is the open gentle hand. Others may say; beauty is the delicate resting feather. There are those who might even say; the beauty is in both of them together. And I smile at them thinking; 'tis to me thy heart what opens ones hand and graces his own soul, knowing his love will to only be witnessed by the feather.   It’s ok to cry once Bending withstanding the everlasting contrasting, mending in the blending to become what we are. The catalyst is the silence that’s inside us for our guidance. Listen with self reliance. It’s ok to cry once as we liberate our defiance. The great and mighty seas bend upon their shoals, offering up the secrets conjured deep from within their bosoms, as if setting free all of their demons, as if setting free what is hidden deep within their souls.   For them There were those who looked up, and I dared to look down. Many looked outward to acquire more than they already have, as I looked inward to acquire what I always have had. I heard them speak out, but found comfort within my own silence. They reached out for attention. I held out my hand to give what I had. They were quick to judge others misfortune, It was compassion that touched my heart. When they looked at their lives they cried for themselves. When I looked at life itself, I cried for them, but again held out my hand to give what I had.   The Sum of All When we view the sky, is it not the sky that we are standing in? When we see its depths, upon which rung of its endless ladder do we stand? When we feel pain, is it not the pain of all men connected to life invisible? And who would say; their pain is theirs alone? As a fleet of ships travel the seas in search of a land to plant their seeds into the soil, and only the most seaworthy vessels survive the journey, do they not all suffer from what has been lost from the sinking of the less seaworthy ships? When a field is harvested, its bounty is the sum of the plants that have prospered and those which have withered. Then so praise that which is bountiful and that which has withered. When we love, it is the sum of all that we have ever known. All that is good and all that is not. As does the sun cast a shadow onto all images that touch its light, then man must face the sun and not dwell upon his shadow, but know that it is there. For in ugliness, there is beauty. In love, there is pain. In darkness, there is light. In the unfolding of our souls the eagle will soar, and rivers will flow to the sea, even as we drag our chains.   Words Etched in Stone Breathtaking beauty flares color astounding, canvas of autumn paints pictures surrounding. Passions’ stream vivid expressing all colors, aspens and oaks “dyeing” leaves with the others. Watching them express their maturity’s glory is a lesson from nature in this equinox story. Reaching up from the earth as they play out the season’s final scene, all of their brilliance of colors once green. Oh Painted skies wind does tell me, with its gusty swirlings in my ears. North winds will blow out the candles of our years. Words etched in stone for everyone to see, as the trees elegantly accept .......their destiny.   Upon a Second Look Her beauty touched the sensitivity of his eyes. Slender she was, her curving figure stemmed into a delicately radiant facial blossom, only known to be seen in orchids’ petal and the wings of butterflies. Passions limbs stretch, they reach desperately reaching, rooted in hearts desire’s chamber, branching into and beyond the clouds of soul’s skies. In time they will bear fruits; the birthing of trust, the rearing of compassion, dedicated faith, the tender loving of life and the yearning of freedom. Her emotions were seen through eye’s windows, perched there on spiraling edge’s, unfolding in graduations from one grade to the next, endless degrees of depth revolving, evolving in revolution, traversing twisting circles without conclusions, only to start again from different perspectives of its living coil. Seeing this, her beauty then touched the sensitivity of his heart.   Passionate Stars Thread’s intricate woven fabric bearing silks trimmed in lace. Snowflakes little doilies crystal like face. Fragile are eggshell’s life-giving grace. Silkworm’s cocoon is the butterfly’s embrace. Sundown’s colors stain the glass of sky. Rhythms of bird’s song profess; “here am I!" Oceans settling down their waves so gentle, winds turn to breezes touching quiet evening meadows. Everything here you know, are the emotions that we are. Oh! I almost forgot to mention; the spiraling depth of the universe, the beautiful planets....... the passionate stars.   Acceptance A confused man spoke to a man of wisdom and asked; “how can I accept the tragedy of my lost love? When can I be done with the agony of my misfortune?” And the wise man looked at him with a comforting smile and said; “you have much to do to accept your change. It is not an easy moment in your life to realize yourself in a different light. As your life changes its course so then must you. As the new seasons breeze blows from the horizon, your vessel will be sent aimlessly into its journey. You will come to understand that to survive the uncertainty of your direction, you must take the rudder firmly into your hands and guide your course to its destination.”The man looked back at the wise man asking him; “when will my journey end?” Again the wise man smiles back to him and said; “to accept your destiny you will never reach your journeys end. For acceptance as in love and life, grows and will spread its branches until the end of time. It is not and never will be enough to say that you accept a tragedy or even a great joy. When in love, to say you are in love is not enough within itself to love. And in pain, it is not enough to endure the pain by your words of acceptance. You must grow with your love as you must grow with your pain.” “When a grove of trees grows together in a forest and one is cast back into the ground from the hand of nature, the tree next to the tragic event, in time will grow stronger in light of change. And in its time, its roots will have the latitude to take a firm hold creating a foundation never known before. And its branches will reach out for the nourishment life brings to it, in the new place created by what once was. The wisdom gained by your constant acceptance of this living experience will be your salvation.”   The Garden of Time Our purpose in the garden of time is to grow as do all living things. And as a second grows to be a minute, then an hour and a day, it is certain to change, as it becomes the weeks, months and years of the living experience. And so it can be said that a second is a part of all the things that it will grow to become. As each expanding interval, the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, are created from the seed of it’s moment, as it’s moment is instilled in the essence of each of them. As we wonder, we may see that we ourselves are as that very second. All living things grow from the seed of life’s essence and become more than they were from their beginning. During our cultivation in the garden of time, we will render the fruits of growth from the branches of time’s ascension. As time becomes a greater part of itself, it will grow to become eternal. So in our realization of ourselves, we will ascend to become a greater part of life itself....... forever.   The Union Love comes like the spring, a season of birth. In it’s dawning lies the offering of new life. And in it’s offering is born the light, as does the blossom of a beautiful flower, and the unfolding of it’s petals reveal the magic of complex simplicity, and when in full bloom, it transforms your deepest secrets into truth, and renders vision unto your darkest windows. And you will then see what you have not had, and you will have. And then you will know of what you have not been, and you will become. Your spirit will transcend and will be whole, as it was meant to be. And your soul will mend its scars from the nectar that is rendered from the union that you willingly accepted. All living things consume the nourishment of food and drink. Then so will you feast on the nourishment of love. Now I will say that you will come to know the depth of your souls. Time is between your lives, so be not with expectation. Let your passions fly as freely as your hearts. And if you both come to the same house to lay, and you lay together, then you will know the truth that lives inside yourselves. And in the dawning of a new day, if you speak of your new light, you may then know and become a part of one another’s light. For if the brightness of your experience does not shine from the essence of your souls, then your darkest windows will not have been illuminated by the others light. And their light will not emanate as does a star.   With Angel’s Touch Touch me stars light. I need feel of the heat in your flames on this night. When the earth’s oceans caress the dryness of my skin, my sense of touch becomes what I am. As I feel the clay beneath my feet where I stand, the movement of life flows through the veins in my hands. Touch all of the air, inhale it inside you. Its magical nectar brings our lives into view. With angel’s touch, lay thy hands on the deepest parts of my soul. Adorn me with lilac, and silk lace and saffron, with all who live with pain and minds suffer, and those cloaked in garments of silver and gold. Sweet things and bitter, hot metal and cold, rocks born from great mountains, and the tears from life’s old. I must touch and be touched, by reds, yellows, and greens, I feel as if it is the nature of all things. The beautiful wisdom that life……… to us brings...   Expressions Everlasting There will never be something one should say or write or even paint or play on a lute that is meant to be their last work or expression before they no longer breathe on this earth. One will never have the chance for this to occur, for mankind’s living expressions have always been his everlasting messages. “Finality” and “Forever” are twins inside the same sphere and appear to us in their own expressions that have already been written, and they dwell in a place where birth and death endlessly embrace. Their art covers a canvas stretching across time’s endless beginnings, and if we listen we can hear the vibrations from the plucking of strings,................ or are they the sounds of children innocently laughing, people passionately toiling within their trying, or lovers face to face heart to heart soul to soul joyfully crying. Expressions everlasting.   Love’s contrasting addiction Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, softly, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Hush now sweet one, let quiet, let quiet, let self trust apprehend you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. Whisper secretes, I whisper, emotional heat pours from my breath, feel, feel, feel, your own special depth. Your scars, your scars are part of what you are. All of your fears throughout all of your years, lie, they lie, they have lied. The colors that you are, crystal sapphires, jade, ebony, turquoise, the bright, the white bright light of a star. You must then know they were created from blue flame burning, and cold, heartless cold, insane cold, mindless cold. Darkest black dark, the dark darkness the darkest. On hands and knees desperately, my God!, crawling aimlessly in all directions, within your escaping, tears of compassion slowly drip onto your reflection. Within your living experience, your pain underlines the hell you have endured, the insight you have procured, the piece of mind you have secured, from love’s contrasting addiction.   In Time A desperate and anxious man can be a fool of fools. The wise and patient man sees not the fool in him but that which the desperate man does not understand, thus having not sympathy, but compassion towards him. For the tempest in others is your tempest, just as the path of ascension of the wise man will in time, become the path of ascension of the man in desperation.   Captains Are We Life’s journeys are here to teach us, they provide us with a test to do our best. They can overwhelm our simple presence as we stand poised for the lengthy conquest. During our interactions, we collect the puzzles pieces. The plans we contrived are set into place as a means to progress us. I am humbled at the notion of the challenges in life’s devotions. Captains are we of our own destiny. We must never forget that we are beings of fragility. The reality of nobility is a worthy possibility. To navigate our pressures requires justified measures. The diversities at sea can change a ships course from where it should be. The captain makes choices ignoring his crew’s voices. It is human nature to search life’s forbidden seas. Keep your strongest arm on the rudder your vessel is your wager. If you loose your direction, You may be lost in the fathoms. Gone would be your treasures. Have mercy on me.   Yesterday- NOW- Tomorrow It has been said that today is tomorrow's yesterday. How clever it is to see it this way. Imagine this thought and compare points of view, and you may even learn more about you. This moment is the next moment's past moment. Now we see how life moves, Stay in its center and evolve in its grooves. See and be life's living, from where you are growing, Not from where you have been or where you are going. A fragrant flower cannot live separate from the place of its creation, where its heart has taken root creates its growth through cultivation. Though it is a product of a seed evolved in the past, It relates to the present, in life's groove that moves fast. It has no presence of mind, to live in the future or manipulate time. It is what it is, what it was and will be, the moment is its focus, a natural rhythm living free. When you truly love someone you must know, What they were and will become is the rhythm of their soul. Experience what's around you and things you cannot change, the freedom of their nature shall not be rearranged. I am immersed in life's oceans, an instant reflected by skies never end. I feel the waters coolness as its wetness curves around my skin. It is happening in the moment, the place where all of life begins. As a new experience is realized, this moment is born again and again.   The Progression And I shall speak of experience, and experience begets understanding, and understanding begets wisdom, and wisdom begets truth, and truth is the parent of trust, and trust is the child of acceptance, and acceptance is the foundation of love, and love is the most supreme truth and the greatest gift in and beyond time and the universe. When Love is at its moment of realization, then is the birth of light. And the light lives and grows in the center of our being.   Where my secrets lie I am the shores of my soul, its waves crest upon my breast. And misty magic fills my heart, born from the foamy spray of its art. Reflecting back into itself, with depths that are undefined. That is where my secrets lie, I will know them all in time. But for now I’ll let the seasons pass, they enrich my ebbs and tides. For infinity has always been and never stops, as are the skies deep and wide. And when we look into the heavens, we may know that we may be, The grains of sand upon the shores of their everlasting seas.   Who’s In the Mirror? Looking in the mirror I stood, I saw a man much as I could. Is that the total being in there? As I thought, I had to stare. Reflections view of what I see, is not complete reality. Sight of my image’s simple intent, the thoughtless impressions of a visual message sent. There must be more to me than that. How can I determine it? Reflections of my outer image, can not travel past its edges. Turn my head away from image. Roll my eyes into my mind. All the answers are inside me. The reflections of my soul divine.   Elegant pose The tears we shed are prisms, when sun rise rays pierce their watery glaze. Refracting the bright flight of light, Color spectrums appear from that which is clear. the magic not seen in the night. Each droplet divine, Orange, cherry and lime, absorb into my skin, touching my emotions from within. Steady as she goes Turbulent beauty then grows. Stormy seas and under toes, and passions explode, orchids bloom, scent of rose. The neck of swan, elegant pose. Curving gently, rainbows.   Intake Sufferer Sublime indulgence, intake sufferer, Windswept callings, and elongated shadows. Surreal frames of fractured sessions. Sorrows answering, in coiling inversions. Mental images of entangled impressions, Slanted visions of eccentric liaisons. All these impressions pull on my senses, Rearranging all of my living connections. Sanity appears in deep carved chambers Standing In the grace of insanities embers. Sublime indulgence, intake sufferer Taking each moment at a time. Trying desperately not to lose, what’s left of my mind.