In the Night, the Light of Oneness

In the night, the light of oneness -
when all is still and bright and focussed,
a quasar blaze in the depths of darkness,
beyond cares and cataloging thoughts.
When home seems everywhere and nowhere,
there's no need to ask why or how or what -
the insight comes without being sought:
something more from nothing but.







poetry

Swiftly-flying Swallows

Swiftly-flying swallows must come air-ride equipped,
when dipping and swerving and tipping their wings
toward swarms of hovering flies and gnats and things
covering all this broad swath of straw and grass clippings.
Flittering with verve and never loitering or lingering
more than fractions of seconds before turning a curve,
the field becomes filled with their electronic twittering
like neurons firing and almost instantly transmitting
only the information that's both felicitous and fitting.

poetry

It Starts Off Like a Murmur, Then it Grows Like Thunder

It starts off like a murmur, then it grows like thunder;
or it starts off with a blunder, never going ballistic,
where one's life is a compilation of disparate statistics,
and one flounders or maybe even founders in life.
But sometimes we get a glimpse of holistic worth,
a seed that grows and blossoms and hungers for light;
then there's no need for expounding on experience,
or conveying the ineffable through heuristics:
because one who claims to be a mystic is not a mystic.

poetry