Nose on a trail

I go to the waters, To offer terima kasih banyak In flowers and cigarettes To the full moon’s gaze. Almost a year later, Here I am again, Getting blessed On the brink. I receive the gift of Breath, And prepare to leave the incubator’s sacred waters. Truth be told, I do get a kick, A … More Nose on a trail

Cave chronicles

This song was written to the love that lives in me. In you. That will still be there intact, long after we have all moved on. How to share our most untranslatable moments? Like the slowness of the cave, Whale time, Watching the rain The gecko crusades on the wall. At last, I let everything … More Cave chronicles

your eye

I find I have picked upA new habit :Serenading my loves.Today, how could I resist –I didn’t.I strummed a little gratitude into our lunch,Mine de rien. I land in an island,meander my way to a hotel roomAnd here,Our paths meet again. This picture holds such beauty to me,Because it shows me your eyeAs it falls … More your eye

Lay yourself bare

The other day, a line from a song Kicked me in the face. “People writing songs That voices never shared”. What am I waiting for? In the past I’ve hunted for an edge, Fishing for adrenaline in Extreme unknowns. I now know My being truly trembles In moments of quiet and whispers. Such as that … More Lay yourself bare

Cliff-jumpers

Fresh off another gathering of Cliff-jumpers. The lessons that shine through Are the same as the ones So expertly articulated By the kids. The Sacred needs no frills, Just an invitation : “Remember.” And A big fat pinch of humor. I watch again, Mesmerized, As years of pent-up Distress and catastrophe Melt Into a soft … More Cliff-jumpers

Pounamu

You bought to me the Pounamu Greenstone, Sacred souvenir of this land. Your delicate fingers Carved A ceremonial axe, An elegant dagger That sits between my breasts. Blessed by fire instead of water. What a mirror you held up to me, sister. How familiar the path of Another green-eyed French doe, Her passion watering her … More Pounamu

Getting shorn

Getting shorn. Or just another day of service to Love. Finding the scent of Devotion In the flowering of The oldest rose of the rose garden. The land has held us while We spiraled Deeper, Oh god, deeper, Standing in the fire. We invited Chaos And it Came, All over our stunned faces. We surrendered … More Getting shorn