One day I awoke and discovered
A Persian carpet woven with flowers and other plants.

Another day, sitting quietly,
The soft browns of our oak furniture came into prime view.

One day, thinking about the prospect of dying –
Life itself, suddenly became much more intriguing.

On the day I finally gave up all my residual intensity –
Was when I began to hear tinkling bells,
Became aware of the quick movements of small birds,
And memories of the seashore suddenly reappeared.

The day I stopped counting –
Was the day I gave up trying to control my world
And also was the exact moment I stepped through doors of natural happiness
That only God is capable of flinging open.

God has been carefully watching us  – waiting for some indication
Of a recognition of God’s presence –

So, if your mind stops – even for one second –
And you’re able to take a good look

The splendor is overwhelming
And you’ll begin crying about everything you’ve missed in the past.


This is a last poem –
But perhaps not

Since there really is no last poem
So long as we’re still alive.

This is my last poem –
So why won’t you tell me
What’s in my heart today?

This may truly be my last poem –
But it’s not –
Since who can say that
And really mean it.

My last poem
Is silence –

Invisible –
Filled with silent colors.

My last poem
Is waiting

For you to request
A last poem.


In order to meet God, you have to throw yourself out the window
Along with everything you own –
And everything you ever wanted to own.

Then, you have to polish the bare floors and paint the walls white –
Bring in a single flower –
And wait –

Waiting in train stations of ordinary life
Brings engines traveling to desirable places –
But never to God –

Waiting in department stores of dreams
Brings colorful visions to help pass our time waiting –
But not God – no never.

Some say you need to be “born again” to meet God – and that may be,
But I say just start throwing everything you have and are
Out the window –
And that’ll get you there the fastest!