Cryptolyrics

energy

2006-03-27T11:09:00.000-08:00

The energy
uncontained is everywhere at once. It
Flows
through the universe ceaselessly. We come
Out from the
womb into being, propelled by an
Invisible
power that binds a fraction of that force
into what each calls 'me'.
So begins the long or short
Fading into
the boundless once again,
leaving in our wake a trail of
Thought

shade

2006-03-18T16:05:00.000-08:00

The moon
in ever-changing shape,
from fragile arc to full,
In daylight
often is forgot,
the sun-world so persistent and encompassing.
Hovers
yet, about the mind and heart,
that hint of Otherness we seek
In the blue
above, vast purity of the unbounded,
as did our fathers' mothers far
as memory was born.
Crescent
and pale, out of place,
shade of that darkness we endure.
White
innocence, that blood has stained,
and only emptying will cleanse
The haunt of night

surface

2006-03-17T11:28:00.000-08:00

Somewhere
you have never been
or returning to forgot,
there is an echo or a shadow
lingering far
Below
what thought can know,
but the siren song of
The surface
lures, and in so doing obscures
the sacredness
Of daily life
leaving no space for
Eternity
to glow,
and thus the superficiality
Endures

return

2006-03-16T09:35:00.000-08:00

This
state of being, beyond thought, and yet
somehow playing with thought to speak,
You have hallowed
swift in the abandonment of individuality
even as it surfaces,
That the voice
itself, a music disengaged, avows
a meaning words as words cannot convey,
that sound alone
Can touch
by the motion of moving away
In solitary return

flash

2006-03-15T10:55:00.000-08:00

Tabula rasa
An ancient book, the parchment rotted away,
yet speaks of what it meant to
Then
be alive.
As we gaze upon the page, undecipherable in decay
A sudden
understanding like a
Flash of light
implodes imagination, showing
Now what
is no more, as we, too,
Wait
our fate's unfolding in the same
continuum to which all belong,
And
of its purpose one may guess but none can
See

truth unknown

2006-03-12T15:43:00.000-08:00

What
are you waiting for,
losing the day?
The angel
that passed this way
no longer dispels the gloom. You
Saw in the dying
fog of the dream its wings
as they vanished from the
Room
where you woke
into this present sleep, seeking
A light
in the dark, neither
Of hope
nor a flight from despair
but of a truth unknown
as you wait in doubt, the longer
Fading out

language

2006-03-12T15:30:00.000-08:00

In
thinking of what can be thought
Your saying
that what cannot be said
must be left in silence
is hardly letting
It
remain where it was.
You have
either forgotten or failed to realize
that vocalizing silently is still communal,
that what has
Already passed
as speech in any form
presumes the existence of the other.
It
is in fact impossible to talk to yourself.
There can only be a
Leaving it
unspoken, aloud or within,
or an acknowledgement of the
Lie
You simply can't get here from
There

a blessing

2006-03-10T17:08:00.000-08:00

Infinite
are the ways of the universe. In your
Striving
to accommodate your existence
to the totality, you
Never
consider futility
as a blessing in disguise. Though
Arriving
at one conclusion after another
leaves you wasted, you still belive
It is
some hidden, but redeemable, flaw
that manages
To boggle
your efforts, and thus you persist
in floudering about
The mind

final scene

2006-03-09T15:52:00.000-08:00

In the
movement of humanity,
from ape to angel, no
Final scene
is found. Only inexorable Time,
without end or beginning in sight.
There is
either the watchful waiting
of the nothing-doing,
or the constant flight from
Death
in make-believe and diversion. Which
Then
is the lesser evil, East or West?
Each tiny self-encircled consciousness
Comes
to sudden bloom and fades as fast,
its brief moment but
The faint whisper of
knowing what it means to be,
even as the having-been
is greeted with the irony of
Applause

gravity

2006-03-08T10:10:00.000-08:00

Far
as remembrance reaches,
so, too, a forward gathering leaps
To fall
as Eve and Adam fell,
our following all the same,
And still
we strive against the certainty,
Resisting the
very force of
Gravity
that ever weighs us down.
Are we more sinned against than sinning,
or is it simply the vice-like virtue
Of being alive

flickering

2006-03-01T15:55:00.000-08:00

Whatever
in the mind fails to find an outlet
Is
festering still, though it
Is only
a refelection of a shadow
on the wall, flickering
While
the world outside moves on.
It is
real the way the play within the play is real.
It is quickly
locked away in dreams that
Now and
then erupt in mock awakenings.
To keep alive it feeds on what is
Gone

two worlds

2006-03-01T10:14:00.000-08:00

After
having sat in stillness,
awaiting unity all the while,
The rainfall
on the roof entered the mind
as the rhythm of Earth divine.
Wide pools
of memory spread to dissolution
in the imagery
Of water
like the birth-beginning,
and what seemed a re-emerging.
Two worlds
were there, moving in time
and motionless in eternity,
One high and
in the direction of our common striving,
but on return a mere reflection.
Thus search ends not with finding
but with a waking from what held
One deep

birth cord

2006-03-01T09:31:00.000-08:00

How frail is
our knowing, as we nimbly cross
the rushing stream of thought.
Our hold
on what we value most
is but the accident of circumstance,
a protective disquisition
On life
in lieu of living.
The birth cord
that once connected us
to the very beginning of time,
having been
Severed
leaves us to seek an answer on our own.
We are
thus forced to journey inward
to find a truth that belongs to
Each alone

shadow

2006-02-25T10:39:00.000-08:00

Who
at morning-rise, speaking
from the shadow leading on,
Goes with you
still in the evening, trailing behind.
Life's long walking
To the gate
of twilight, where the shadow
fades into that night
Beyond which
a strange dawn or none at all awaits.
Listen close, while
There is
yet time, to hear the shadow's voice,
a knowing beyond choice,
of what you are when you are
Only nothingness

Look now

2006-02-25T10:29:00.000-08:00

Talk
of the long goodbye,
the solace of old folks
in their dying. That
Is talk
tuned to the ticking of the clock.
But if, as you are alive, you
Look now
at whatever greets your sight, say
Birds
arriving from a busy flight, alighting
On the branches
overhead, their musical twittering
dancing in the air, singing of
The sunlight
as it beams, suddenly the immediacy
Streams though
the universe vibrantly
in the golden gleaming of
The leaves

snail trails

2006-02-24T17:26:00.000-08:00

Bright patterns
no two alike, the way of Nature.
Only humans are repititious.
Only humans create straight lines.
On the pavement
our walkways, our separation
and protection. Streets. Houses. Walls.
Snail trails
remind us of other forms.
They also inhabit a world of their own.
All species defined. These
delicate markings are what they leave behind.
Gleaming
As we, too, when we are gone,
shall add to the residue of dust.
In the morning
something begins anew.
A welcoming challenge,
to break the bounds of isolation.
Distinctions dissolving
in a oneness of uniqueness.
Apart and a part of
Sunlight

water-clock

2006-02-24T13:49:00.000-08:00

Clock
The hidden mechanism within.
Relentless gears. Turning.
And Water
in bowl, in pool, river and lake,
wider and wider, oceanic.
Source of life. Blood. Cloud. Sky.
Sun arising
New day, eyes opening.
Casting away the nagging dreams,
night gloom and regret.
To answer Time's threat
with eagerness.
So swift the clock
but we are quick, racing to be free.

The water
of which we are, and all the world,
out there, within, and far beyond
the vast sea border.
Waiting.
So still

parade

2006-02-24T12:45:00.000-08:00

People
watching the parade of clowns and acrobats
Walking by
while the sinner is
Talking softly
in the confessional, even as
You can hear
with the inner ear,
your own transgressions and the
Music
of the band approaching.
Thus imagination's spell does
More than
compensate the balance of the real.
It overboards the abstract inevitability of
Words

patio

2006-02-24T12:34:00.000-08:00

Of bricks
now and in remembrance. The tension
of time in the mind, its only residence.
Here in the patio
Sunlight
through the green.
The leaves and branches over head.
Amid the given, the things of the world.
Shadows
on the bricks, slhouettes of leaves,
alert to the patches of sunlight,
anticipating dusk.
Flowers
everywhere. A veritable laughter of design.
Unimaginable in their actuality.
Color abundant
each instance a whisper of wonder,
as the sitting still, observing,
enters in as it is entered into
Tranquility

force of life

2006-02-24T12:27:00.000-08:00

Within
the stillness of silence
The movement of
understanding has no words.
Time
is absent in the mind, and
You are
nowhere to be found, simply
Carried
by the force of life as it travels
On
its way, while
The wave of
unknowing takes causeless
Effect

body-mind

2006-02-24T12:19:00.000-08:00

Though thought
like a theater lit within
Is alert
to the fictive motives
of the ghosts of players gone
The deeper
message of the
Body-mind
is in the river-flow of
Dreams
A wordless language falling slow
Toward sleep
telling the mystery
which we have kept and keep
In stone

waking

2006-02-24T11:23:00.000-08:00

On waking
Time was new, the instant
of amazement
patterns as never before,
made by sunlight on the floor.
There
were no precedents to dull the sight.
Then the first thoughts
Came
born of hidden desires and fears, defiling
The cleansing
night had brought. Yet, still, a balmy
Breeze
of Spring's fresh warmth
maintained an element of that
Emptying
so promising in its endlessness,
The mind
then poised between continuing
or abandoning the habit
Of striving