THE SECRET WE ALL KNOW

Where does joy come from?
From God, of course.

That’s why it’s so fresh –
Ocean breezes without a hint of stale air.

So open up your life and permit God’s joy to flow in
Even if your mind’s on something else –
Something past.

Joy really is a form of beauty, isn’t it? –
Often waiting in dreams
Like a flower that opens early in the morning.

Even if you’re not paying much attention
You’ll discover that joy is a bit like a car horn –
Beauty blaring you awake!

This is a secret we all know – and have always known –
Joy is the invisible name of the person you married
But almost overlooked in the crowd.

Joy is the kind of beauty that comes home –
Like the first person you kissed upon falling in love –
Like the brand-new baby that’s still you –
Newborn for the first and last time.

PEERING OUT OF TUNNELS

Why worry about what one “looks like”
When peering through cloudbursts of love?

How give up one’s “self” in order to look through God’s eyes –
Or take a “perfect shot” without aiming –
In other words, how act in this world?

How will we achieve the spontaneity of no ego – like children do –
Or be impervious as a flower taking its own beauty for granted?

And why spend life peering out of tunnels
To see whether you’re loved or threatened?

What God is, is fearless – like water –
A being who’s no “thing” – but radiates love –
Without, however, being interested in the images created inside our heads –
As opposed to what we’re actually doing.

God appears wherever nothing else can be seen –
Beyond the self – even any “God” self –
That is, a selfless “self” who sees – but can’t be seen –
Because God never appears outside “spirit,”
That is, “love,” truth,” “justice,” or “beauty,”
And why the “you,” yearning to model yourself on God,
Are unafraid of dying –
Because there, you’re actually not there –
Even though, up to now, you’ve been busily completing a spiritual self
Inside time!

 

A WORLD OF SPLINTERED MINDS

The poet “drowns” himself in beauty –
But this can never happen in the West – in the land of logical thinking.

The poet greets a flower on the dining room table
Which his wife placed there that morning – just before he arose.

The internet, on the other hand, never contains actual beauty
Because whatever’s there –
Isn’t real
And, since only the real is vulnerable to dying, only the real can truly be beautiful.

So, wake up – put down your iPhone –
Beauty, as the essence of God, is waiting everywhere – just for you.

Like I said, wake up, little one –
Then, wake up again!
Because beauty resides only in that second awakening.

The poet has “drowned” himself in beauty –
But, unfortunately, he’s asleep – and completely unaware of it –
This kind of “waking sleep” constitutes normal quotidian activity –
A mental “mirror” reflecting infinite numbers of digital mirrors –
But never, ever, an actual flower!

So, this all-encompassing electronic world, completely empty of natural beauty,
Will always be a world of splintered minds.