You have made many cameo appearances in my life, Shiva, brief sightings to reassure my fragile human self of Your presence. You have given wonders & miracles to wake me up somewhat. i am grateful. i wish that i could remain awakened, but dullness & weariness grip the body, & my initiative has slowly congealed & become stiff, encumbering me & slowing me down more.
i am old & i am not a hero: i simply continue to endure. sometimes i feel this must surely qualify as heroic: just to keep on going! oh Shiva! is it time now for another cameo appearance? or maybe even a small wonder? i will wait here for You, alert & observant, continuing to endure, chanting Your mantra day after day & writing these poems to You.
things that float & fly trigger primal joy & amazement in us:
birds, butterflies, bubbles & balloons; airplanes, spaceships,
ufos. they draw our attention up to the sky, to the sun, moon & stars
& other wonders too precious & arcane to divide into
diagrams of nouns, verbs & their modifiers, arranged much like
bricks in a wall to assure properly predictable results.
things that float & fly need abundant space, emptiness, freedom, an
openness so vast that the human mind pours itself into a
quietude that watches & wonders without structured boundaries.
You came to me in that way, Shiva, through the open doorway of
the sky, & You established Your home in my heart. You made of me
a temple, a place of worship & rejoicing over all these
long years since my youth. You were my nameless, invisible
companion & confidant & i was the one who held You close.
now, at the endgame of this life, You have given me Your name to
strengthen my sadhana & to encourage me to continue
on here. i'm as though among the singers in a chorus, holding
the notes steady & pouring my heart into the great thundering
sonic concluding celebration of soaring sound. You lift me
skyward, Shiva; You take me to that high place inside that feels like
being on a mountain top with all the shining mystery spread
before me. i fall into You, into that mystery, & it
is none other than the vast undivided Self that exists free
of definition & delusion. here, at the outer edge of words,
things that float, fly & fall need boundless space, emptiness & freedom.
THIS HAPPENED 