The Light Is Coming On

How much of
what we do,
or worse,
“should do,”
is deemed
to be
in payment of
a debt,

by the Arbiters
of Holy Books or
The Keepers of
Accounts,
or worse,
deemed so by
ourselves?

We walk about
as debtors,
always
in the red,
feeling
overdrawn and
preyed upon
by the
debt collectors
of the
Soul.

Or maybe it’s
just me.

In any case
the light is
coming on,
as late in life
as it may be.

The only debt
we ever owed
was paid,
in full,

that first
moment
we gasped
a breath and
wriggled free,

that first
moment
we agreed
to be.

Photo by Isaac Quesada, UnSplash

 

Storyteller’s Art

I love what
you’re doing
with your
character.

A little
conflict
for redemption
later in your
story,

a little
failure,
or maybe
a lot,
something
to get
teary about
now,

then laugh
about later,
through those
tears of
jubilation

when your
storyteller’s
art
writes hot
romance
for your
part.

You’re so
good at this,
so real,
I’ll bet you
forget you’re
an artist,

and nearly
lose
yourself
in the beauty
of your
craft.

But that’s why
we love what
you’re doing
with your
character.

Photo by Sam Moqadam, UnSplash

 

Crème de la Crème

After years of
research and
practice,
I have for you
an exercise.

The Crème
de la Crème
of exercises.

It’s quite
strenuous,
so be well
rested
before
attempting it.

Sit in your
favorite
chair or couch.
(Couches work
best.)

Have your
favorite
beverage
at hand.

(Actually,
I hate the word
“beverage.”
For some
reason
it reminds me
of the
slag from
smelting
iron ore.)

Have your
favorite
libation
at hand.

Make yourself
as comfortable
as possible.

Take a sweet
swig of
your libation.

That’s it!
You’re
doing It!

I call this
exercise

Be You.

Photo by Jacob Rank, UnSplash

 

An Open Secret

There are
sonograms and
MRI’s,
mammograms and
X-rays.

Photographs and
autographs,
sound
recordings and
videotapes.

A thousand ways
to measure and
describe.

You have a
fingerprint, a
footprint, a
hat size, a
girth.

A certificate
to mark your
birth
and one
to note your
death.

But it’s an
open
secret

that the
measurement
you crave,

the one you
want all
eyes
to see,
especially
your own,

is
that Thing
that opens
every necessary
door.

That Thing
that charts the
contours
of your
precious,
genius
Soul.

Photo by Kobby Mendez, UnSplash

 

What I Know

I don’t care
what
you call
that First
Beingness.

God,
All That Is,
Allah That Is,
Buddha,
Boo,
Duh,
Phil, or
Chlorophyll.

What I
know
Is that
when
He, She, It
looked
around,

They
smiled
and
said,
thought,
sensed to
Themself:

All of
this
Beingness
means
Nothingness

without an
Otherness.

And here
I, You, We,
She, He, They,
Her, Him, Them
and It

Are.

(Photo by Benji Aird, UnSplash)

 

Gatekeepers of Creativity

When the
Gatekeepers
of Creativity
want to check
your passport,

to make sure
you belong,

smile and
whip it out.

Show ‘em
that
The Mystery
is your
birthplace,

and you’re
free to
come and go
as you please,

Mystery being
the only
government
recognized by
Creativity.

It’s right
there, on
your passport.

Occupation:
Creator

Your birth
certificate is
your license.

Now,
ask those
Gatekeepers of
Creativity
to show
their badges.

Watch ‘em
slink away,
emptyhanded.

They probably
stole those
uniforms
from a
thrift store
donation bin.

 

On Your Knees, Sinner

It is reported
that Jesus said
we should
consider the
Lily of the Field,

who does not
toil or
spin a single
thread,

yet blinds
the astonished
eye with
splendorifousness.

On your knees,
Sinner!
Ask forgiveness.

In your tender
heart
you’ve been
secretly
measuring

your luscious
beauty,
your effortless
magnificence,
by the length
of your
To Do List.

I think
I hear him
laughing,
but it’s
with you,
not at you.

After all,
you’re only
human,
still learning
from
the flowers.

 

You’re Quite a Character

You may be
unaware of
your sublime
improvisational
skills.

But you’re a
lifetime member
of the
Cosmos Actors
Guild.

Sometimes you
forget
you’re an old hand
at overcoming
stage fright.

That your fellow
players
love you
when you
do that
thing you do.

So, come out
of the
Green Room.
Don’t hide
back there,
all
huddled up
with doubt.

You were born
for the stage,
so
come on out
and play.

 

Exhibition

I have an idea
for an
art gallery.
Please hear
me out:

Would you be
willing to
join a few
of your neighbors

and spend
an hour or two
being the
exhibits
at an
Exhibition

where you
sit in a
comfortable
chair
and

the rest of us
wander around
remarking
on the sheer
beauty
of your
one-of-a-kindness,
the originality
of the genius
that informs you,
the artistry in
your every
once-in-the-cosmos
feature?

After awhile
you would
rise
and others
of your neighbors
would take
your places.

And so it
would go.

(Photo by Alexander Jawfox, UnSplash)

 

Self Improvement

I set about
to improve
an orange.

An average orange,
grocery store
produce department.

First
I bought some
paint,
actually called
“Orange Peel”
to fix
the outside.

What a mess.

Then I
wondered
about using
a syringe
to inject some
one-hundred percent
certified pure
orange juice
inside that
little globe.

But by now
I just wanted
to
eat it.

It was
really
good.

(Photo by Tomi Vadasz, UnSplash)