Eternal Life

How beautiful
to see eternity stretch before us

Infant to child
to adolescent
to adult
to elderly
to the earth once more

We return home
and back to life
over and over

Many lives
Many guises

Eternal life
All of us
Here
Forever

The Word

There was the Word
and the Word was Life.

Life sprang from Nothingness
and soon the Nothingness

was filled with Everything
and Everything covered All

And soon the years passed
and more and more Nothingness

was filled and eventually
the people that grew to live

in the Nothingness that was
now filled by Everything

filled the world even more
with younger and younger

generations of themselves
all across their home

And so it generation after
generation until Everything

fell away and all that was
left once more was the Word

Unseen Landscape

Cheryl was lonely

She sat by herself at the diner

Her usual french toast breakfast

was as good as any other day

She finished and walked out 

to the parking lot to her white

Chrysler missing one hubcap

from the front drivers side

She drove home to her 

apartment and set down 

her bag She took off her shoes

and sat down on the comfy

overstuffed couch

She liked the way her body

would comfortably ease

into the cushions

She turned on the TV

and let it speak

It didn't matter what 

was on it all came

and went through her mind

Oftentimes she would 

begin to remember 

memories and dreams 

from younger days

and all the possibility

that was once ahead

Now so much of it 

could only be seen with

a backwards glance 

She closed her eyes

and began to breathe steadily

The sounds from the TV faded

into nothingness

She could see everything now

all at once 

Vastness was no before her

How lovely it was 

Current Forms

Blooming flower at the edge of Winter
Your face basks in the chill of dawn
We gaze upon each other 
Many lives
Many forms ago
Yet we are unchanged
in our flowered essence 

Of All Possibilities

In the beginning there was nothing.
From this nothingness came everything.
When everything came into being
the beings that occupied part of everything
could not comprehend there being a
nothingness so complete that it was
perfectly infinite in its complete lack.
And in this existence of things finite
came to be minerals, animals, humans
which are a kind of animal, cars, stars,
buttons and thread, and many, many
things far too numerous to ever list.
No one had been able to satisfactorily
answer why all this something exists
instead of not. There are many ideas
about the who, what, why, and how,
but no one idea or theory has ever
been enough to satisfy everyone all
at once. That is fine. It would be folly
to try and do so. In this world of
possibility I came to exist and so did
you through no effort on our parts.
In our lives we bask in both joy and
sadness, and live with the consciousness
this existence saw fit to give us. We
have found answers to many things
and still lack the answers for many,
many others. That is fine. In this world
brimming with the finite and infinite
the sun still rises over our world in
the morning, and the moon still bathes
us in her pale light in the evening.
This celestial routine is beautiful and
reassuring in a time of constant change.
Do not forget that our ancestors gazed
upon the same sun and moon in the sky.
In this world of possibility we always
find ourselves gazing upwards and
dreaming.

We are but living dust. 

If time exists

it is a thing

subject to

die as surely

as any of us

who live.

Creation and Existence

Is your God still breathing 
Or is She still seething
With disappointment 
In her favorite creations?

Crucify your faith 
If it isn't strong enough
Live among the godless
If you've had enough

Imperfect world
Infinite being 
Free yourself
From expectation 

Hypocrisy
Is by and
Large
The rule of
Human existence

Infinite Wave

Start with nothing

Object of existence

Place of unthinking

Pure sound of release

Fragments placed carefully

Create a collage of memory

Break the mirror

Rearrange the pieces

Glue them to a wall

Peace of mind

Doesn't last forever

Play the record

Until the grooves 

Are worn out

I hear nothing 

When I sleep

There is no danger

Only possibility

Sentences can't convey

All the thoughts

I wish to release

Words are insufficient

But they will do

Open up the part 

Of yourself living in fear

Let the beast go

If there is a God

She lives as wind

Flowing through 

The universe

An endless wave

All can feel

Bookends

In the beginning...
                         
                             there was the word.

At the end...
   
                     there was nothing,

not even the word.

When nothing came to pass
there was no one to know
or comment on the complete
absence of anything.

It was as it had been long before
dawns of any kind existed.

In the stillness of the end
there was no sound,
only the faint possibility
of possibility .

Beauty is not rare,

it dares to exist in a world

of indifference.

Geologic Time

Existing is a very beautiful thing.
To realize how insignificant we are,
how insignificant our species is,
merely look at the life of our planet
in the scale of geologic time.
The stages of its life are quantified
in terms of Eons, which divide into
Eras, which divide into Periods,
which divide into Epochs, which
divide into Ages, all of which are
folded into the Supereon. My life
will only span decades. It will divide
into individual years, which divides
into months, which divides into weeks,
which divides into seven days, which
divides into hours, which divides into
minutes, which divides into seconds.
All of which fold into the total life
experience at the time of my death.
I do not worry about my death,
it will come to me at its time. It will
come to you at your time. And in
time, our home will die as well.
This does not make me sad. It is
the cycle of existence wrought
on a scale that dwarfs the physical
limitations of everything our minds
can comprehend. Existence and time
are the great and even hands of
the universe. Everything matters now.
Everything won't always matter.
How still will the universe be
at the moment the lights turn off
once more?

Singing into the void.

The Great Failed Experiment

This life only poisons

the beautiful things

it breeds.

Constants

Each life is a scale

model of existence

rendered in miniature.

Universal Self-Portrait

I am the sum

of vibrations

that have 

conspired

to create me.

Tell Yourself

As far as I know

I exist.


What a grand

realization.


I assume you

exist as well,


otherwise, who

is this?

The Way Things Are

The way a flower opens its petals.

The way wind can slam a door closed.

The way lovers commune.

The way artists re-imagine life.

The way plants take root in cracks of concrete.

The way new land rises from the sea.

The way cars crash on roads late at night.

The way life is born.

The way we take pleasure.

The way we peer through windows.

The way silence must be filled.

The way all stories eventually end in loss.

The way we like the familiar.

The way we need answers.

The way ambiguity is.

The way some are always alone.

The way we can never experience the same moment.

The way obscurity toils.

The way we need to divide.

The way we cannot find peace.

The way happiness is an open-ended answer.

The way days end.

The way a body decays .

The way the world is impartial.

The way mad men tower over us.

The way voices speak all at once.

The way thought enters consciousness.

The way chemicals create reaction.

The way drink numbs.

The way nothing is enough.

The way that that could be.

The way they never took.

The way we never considered.

The way we do not.

The way fire burns.

The way ants march.

The way old books age.

The way past dulls in color.

The way smell triggers memory.

The way it used to be.

The way seasons dictate our lives.

The way belief believes.

The way no one has yet found.

The way grammar orders.

The way you hear this.

The way rain falls.

The way an umbrella opens.

The way the wind rattles windows.

The way you are.

The way a child grows.

The way some remain unchanged.

The way the world is.

The way everything must be.

The way we change.

The way we do not.

The way stones rest.

The way pebbles skip across a pond.

The way a blue orb appears in a black sky.

The way light from dead stars reach us.

The way this must seem.

The way things were.

What It Is To Be

To be

To have been

To want 

To accept 

To reject

To watch

To participate

To plan

To desire

To need

To be needed

To harm

To forgive

To heal

To listen

To run

To ache

To do

To drink

To order

To write

To erase

To you

To no one

To myself