Two Friends

Two Friends

on a beach

walking,

talking,

planning,

dreaming,

birthing

their visions

into existence.

One Friend,

compelled by her Soul’s necessity;

The Other,

moved by an insatiable curiosity.

Both,

desiring to leave behind

an indelible legacy-

to inspire,

empower,

unleash creativity;

to free the masses

from contraction and boredom

by en-couraging

expansion and freedom!

These two friends

on that beach

were destined to meet,

brought together

by old friends

now deceased.

The story continues

until it is

complete.

 

 

 

The Wave

i must see myself

as part of The Wave,

not some outlier to be saved

from this swarm of humanity

and its seeming insanity.

to most every body,

this frenzied activity

is really quite ordinary.

though, not to me

a Soul that craves

tranquility;

the one that runs from the grind,

just trying to find

much less human density.

must do so quickly,

lest risk immediate psychic misery.

“Oh Lord, help me to perceive differently,”

i pray, so that i may longer stay

in the place where i am free,

not enslaved by a trickster ego

playing devious jokes on me!

America

“O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath-America will be!” Langston Hughes

 

My country

strives to be

a sweet Land of Liberty,

a Crown of Beauty,

from sea to shining sea-

an example

a beacon

to other countries

and peoples

to witness

the possibility

of beloved community

amidst vast diversity,

of justice

amidst adversity,

of kindness

in the midst of such plenty.

America,

this grand, young experiment

in democracy-

governance

of

for

by

We, The People.

Still struggling with its meaning,

back and forth, we go;

to and fro,

from the high

to the very low.

Another birthday,

America 

tentatively celebrates,

expressing gratitude

for what is good.

While also cultivating

a firm commitment

to manifesting

for all

that which is

honorable,

innocent,

hopeful

within the

imperfect,

complex,

uncomfortable

experiment

that gave birth to a nation

of immigrants.

 

 

Pray

PRAY,

allow God

to show you

His Way,

His Plan,

His Hand.

There’s no need

for you to understand.

Simply surrender

to The Will

of your Creator,

The One who sees

far and wide.

What, then,

is a better guide

to how one lives and thrives

on this journey

called

Life.

Twists and turns,

scars and burns,

new lessons

constantly re-learned.

Such is the stuff

of a Life,

that crooked path of a spirit made flesh.

And so, we humbly relent,

look up, only to the sky

for consistent help.

PRAY.

Listen.

Do only what He says.

 

dabbler in many, master of none

before making Its way down to Earth,

does the Soul know if it will embody

a master or a dabbler?

one for whom

destiny is crystal clear

while for the other,

purpose is a vague, elusive idea?

the master is crafted for a particular task;

the dabbler meanders-

no set directive or path.

is one gifted,

the other cursed?

one disciplined,

the other trifling?

no wrong,

no right;

simply the story of a Life,

the lyrics of a Soul’s unique song.

Give it Away!

Give It away!

For It does not belong to you.

You are but the vessel It flows through.

It chooses you, coming seemingly

out of the blue

to awaken and amuse.

“Give Me away!”

It begs.

I was not meant to remain hidden in your head,

dormant, because you are afraid.

I come from a place that is nothing but pure.

Hence, no need for you to be insecure.”

Some Where Deep Within

Don’t-

yet-

know my true histories:

African

Haitian

American.

Thus, this iteration of Life

is a bit of a mystery

to me.

Not certain where I am going

‘cause I know not where I’ve  been.

Still,

plates are shifting

somewhere deep within,

resulting in a tsunami without.

Mighty waves

ripping at my skin-

shredding

shedding.

Left naked and raw,

drenched in the miraculous,

I am

re-created

to some other form:

a new being steeped in grace

and a deep peace

born of the confidence

in its Divine Service.

A clarity in vision

that bears a great conviction;

A fire-

this time-

on the inside

that one cannot hide,

nor its mission be denied.

“Do you know what you are? You are a manuscript of a divine letter. You are a mirror reflecting a noble face. This universe is not outside of you.  Look inside yourself; everything that you want, you are already that.”  ― Jalaluddin Rumi

Quiet

For those of us who crave Quiet,

who suckle on silence as if it were Mother’s milk,

in every moment,

a trade must be made,

a resultant price paid:

do we the “self” isolate

or do we “other” engage?

The latter can feel like flagellation

when the Quiet Soul

has reached

its social limitation –

that tipping point,

the point of no and diminishing return,

where absolute quiet

is all one yearns-

gasping for it as if a fish out of water,

the mind in an uproar –

all chaos and disorder.

But then…

the consequence

of a life lived largely withdrawn,

where solitude is the norm:

a nagging,

disconcerting

loneliness settles down,

deep into them dry bones-

a thick film

centuries old,

sending gentle warnings to the Quiet Soul

that this human form

was crafted

to be ever

connected.

Yield Your Fruit

Yield

your

Fruit,

just give it all away-

that which you came

here

to do,

to say.

Don that suit

with only your name on it.

Bring that song

you were crafted to sing.

Return to the dust

from whence you came

emptied

-with absolutely

no thing

left within.

Go home utterly spent-

’tis the only way

to live a life content.

LIFE (scene One)

Live

Life

Full.

Be

Here

Now.

For, one never knows

when,

how

The Plug

will be pulled.

Tomorrow,

the next breath,

never guaranteed-

from that illusion,

we must all

be freed.

Life is

precious,

precarious.

The human body,

fragile

as it is

miraculous.

Take

no thing,

no one

for granted.

Live

Life

Soft

surrendered,

empathetic.