Show Time

Were You Taught,
as was I,
that our Maker,
aka God,
started a
Fan Club,
membership mandatory
for You and Me,
in Order to
have a
Mailing Address
to Receive
all those
Fan Letters
Proclaiming
Worship and Obedience?

Some of the Fan Clubs
Insist that
The Penalties for
Failure to Be
a Fan
include Death.

What if
We have It
Backwards?

I’m not Sure
Why –
You’ll have to
Ask the Ones
Who Started
the Fan Clubs.

What If
The Maker
Built a Theater,
with a Cosmos
Filled with
Characters,
Including
You.

What If
The Maker Is
in the Front Row,
Giving You and
The Rest of Us
a Standing Ovation?

Our Biggest Fan.

Perhaps It’s Time
to Put On
a Better Show.

(Photo by Getty Images; UnSplash+)

 

Commission

You Arrive Here
with a
Commission.

A Light Being
with an
Artist’s Smock
of a Body,
Loaded with
a Heartful of
Brushes and Canvas,
Pens and Paper,
Dancing Shoes, and
an Orchestra’s Worth of
Instruments.

You Came
to Create
Your Soul,

with Which
to Entertain
Your Fellow Artists
in This
Theater
Built of
an Elements Chart of
a Rainbow’s Worth of
Love.

But,
My Dears,
We’ve Let
Our Fears
Sneak In
Through
a Backstage Door,

Where They
Insist
They Be Given
a Part.

But Fear
has No Place
Near
The Heart of
Your Art.

Just Smile and
Embrace It,
Let It Stay for
The Show,
but Insist on
Its Silence
or
You’ll Show It
The Door.

(Photo by Getty Images; UnSplash)

 

Soul

There Is
the You
that Is
a Fractal of
The Light
that Flashed into
All That Is.

Forever and Ever
a Perfect Beam

that Chose,
for a Time,
to Inhabit
the Flesh and Bone
Made from
Your Mother’s
Flesh and Bone.

Alive with
a Brain and
a Protective Ego
Shield that
too Often Draws
Its Life from
Fear,
rather than
Love.

But
You can Choose to
Be
The Light
that Is
You,

and Play
The Beautiful Game
of Dowsing
All You See
with
The Love and Laughter of
The Light
that Is
You,

and from this
Love Bath
will Emerge
The Glistening Spirit
that Is
Your One-of-a
Kind Soul.

(Photo by Omar Elsharawy: UnSplash)

 

Unbecoming

I’m Guessing –
No, I’m Willing to
Wager –

You’ve Spent Much
of Your Life
Becoming,

at the Urging of
Imagined Betters,

Some Thing
You Imagine
You are Not
Yet.

The Priests may be
The Worst,
with Their
Holy Books of
What You Must
Become –
Or Else.

But They’re
hardly Alone
in The
You Must
Become Better
Department.

What If
The Whole
Becoming
Enterprise Is
a Control Device, or
a Moneymaker?

A Dangling Carrot?
A Calculated
Behavior Modifier?

What If
You Already
Are?

What If
Unbecoming Is
What You Need
To Be?

(Photo By Quan Nguyen; UnSplash)

 

Q&A

I had Occasion
to Review
the Report of
a Traveller Who,
by nearly Dying,
Travelled to
The Other Side of
the Gossamer Veil
that hangs between Us,
the Earthbound Ones,
and the Home
to which
We Will Return

when We Cease
Breathing
Our Planet’s
thick Atmosphere
and Rise to Be
Greeted by
The Maker’s
Adoring, Cherishing, Grinning
Embrace.

The Traveller
was Allowed to
Return –
Her Choice –
to The Body
which She’d
become quite
Attached to.

But not before
She was Gifted
a Heavenly
Q&A.

She Questioned This and
was Answered That,
until She was at
Her Last Query:

“Oh, Maker,
Why did You
Make Us?
We’re rather an
Obstreperous Lot.”

The Maker Laughed.

“Indeed You Are,
But All of You,
My Precious,

Are Works of Art.

I call You
My
Eternal
Celestial
Collection.”

(Photo by Zalfa Imani; UnSplash)

 

Prodigals

You’ve heard
The Story,
even if You’re not
a Righteous Reader of
Holy Writ.


The Errant
Disrespectful,
Selfish Son
Who Strong-arms
His Father to
Purloin a Share
of The Family Jewels
by Abusing His
Birthright.

Then creeps Home
to Beg a corner
in the Barn,
to Sleep and Cower,
after Losing
the Jewels
in Faraway Flings.

To which
His Father grins
as wide as His Arms
stretch to Welcome
His Boy

to a Celebration
in which the Neighborhood
will Feast in Joy
at His Return.

I imagined my own Version
of this Parable of
Unconditional Adoration,

wherein Grandma offers
Her Cherubic Grandson
a Bowl of Chocolate Ice Cream,
served in a Bowl
given to Granny by
Her own Grandma.

But Little One
grabs the Bowl and
drops It,
Shattering The Heirloom
in His Eagerness to
Add More Scoops.

Grandma Smiles and
Scoops Him Up,
pulls Him Cheek-to-Cheek.

“No Tears
My Cherished Chickadee,

there are Plenty More
Where That Came From.”

(Photo by Jordan Whitt; UnSplash)

 

Monster In the Closet

Wise Ones
Teach
that the
Deepest Wrestle
is not between
Good and Evil,
but rather
a Face-Off
between
Glowering Fear and
Grinning Love.

If Love is
The Light
that The Maker
used to Form
the Face of
The You
that Will
Forever Be,

How did
Fear
Sneak into
The Garden
of Delights,
sowing Weeds of
Fight and Flight?

I believe
It crept into
The Light
bearing
The Noxious Notion

That We Will
One Day
Cease to Be.

The Unholy
Dagger of Doubt
that The Maker
Holds us in
The Arms of Forever.

The Dread that
We have Waited
Too Long for
This or That,
Fear Masquerading
as Regret.

I Want
to Learn
to Live
in the Knowing
that

To Be
Is the Laughter
that can Vanquish
the Imaginary Monster
in the Closet of
Not to Be.

(Photo by David Brooke; UnSplash)

 

Please Sit

Please Sit
In This Chair
I Am
Offering You.

Relax.
Allow Me to
Take Some of
Those Garments
You’re Wearing.

The Cloak of
Laziness
You Imagine
Binds You.
The Vest of
Narcissism and
Selfishness
You’re So
Ashamed of.
Your Habiliment of
Always Taking
The Easy Way Out.

Now
Let’s Look at
You.

You’re a
Light Being,
a Ray of
Illumination
from the Eternal
Flame of
Love and
Light and
Laughter.

You can’t
be Bound by
Creed or
Greed or
Fearful Need.

Just Sit.

Be.

If Duty Calls,
If You Must Go,

I Understand.

It’s Been a Joy
Sitting With You.

Before You Rise,
I Will Bring You
Those Garments
You Were Wearing.

Do With Them as
You Please.

(Photo by Harli Marten; UnSplash)

 

Squirrels

I have no
Occasion to
Dispute the
Useful Illusion
of Separation
between
You and Me.

It gives Me
Joy to Traverse
That Landscape
of Trees and
Squirrels
and
Trails, and the
Arc of
the Sun or
the Raincloud,
from Here to There
to Be
with You.

I Love the
Apparent
Now and Then,
Light and Dark, of
Sunrise and Sunset.

But to Imagine
Any of That
Beauty
To Be
Apart from
The Radiance
That Transformed
Love and Light
into
Squirrels Lit by
The Sun
is the Only
Heresy.

And You,
My Friend,
can’t Separate
Your Truest
Self
from

The LoveLight
that Gave
Birth to
The You
That Is.

(Photo by Dusan Veverkolog; UnSplash)

 

Cosmic Conundrum

Don’t Be
Misled
by
well intentioned
Priests
in Tight White
Collars and
InDoctrineTainted
Robes,
Constrained by Fear.

Who Imagine a
Distant Deity
Demanding Kneeling
Worship and Obedience.

Who has Fashioned
a Will for You
to Ferret Out and
Bind Your Self to,
Lest Your Life Be
Lost.

Arise,
Brush off Your Knees,
Bent by Prayer, but
Soon To Be
Bent by Dance

When You Feel
Your Heart
In Rhythm to the
Delicious Drumbeat of
The Truth:

The Love and Light
and Laughter
those Priests called

God
Wants You
To Be
Exactly Who
You
Most Want
To Be.

(Photo by Darius Bashar; UnSplash)