Butterfly

What if a Butterfly,
a Monarch,
Danaus Plexippus,
landed its bright Wings
on Your Shoulder,

unknown to You
as You go Inside
from
Your Garden.

Now She’s
trapped
and flutters
helplessly
against Your
Window.

Do You Decide,
from Your
God-like Purview,
that She needs
to be Beautified
before You
Release Her?

Do You search for
Your Watercolors,
to brush strokes of
Bright Blue or Green
across Her
Diaphanous Wings?

Do You find a
Gorgeous Silk Scarf
and cut out
Wings
to glue to
Our Lady Monarch’s
shivering Back?

Or do You
gently,
Fingers trembling with
Adoration,
cover Her,
for a Moment,
in a Glass Tumbler,

Carry Her to
Your Door and

Release Her
back into Her
Queendom?

My Friend,
The You that is
You
needs no
Artful Improvement.

Release
Your Self
Back into Your
Wild Garden.

(Photo by Kathy Servian; UnSplash)

 

Innocents

So many Innocents
enter this Place
of Skin and Ribs
and Faces,

being Taught
Their Task is
to diligently
assemble
a Life of
the Best
Possible Parts,
with Skill and
Character,
polished with
Hard Work
and Rewarded with
Silver Tokens
of Success.

So many Innocents
measure
their Images

in the Early Morning
Mirror
and it seems
to Them
Their Sum
falls Short,

and They’ll need
to scramble
to find more
Parts,
Work harder,
Polish more vigorously.

But what if
that Image
in the Mirror
is just a
False Shadow,
cast by a flickering Film
produced by
a Crew of Fools,
most well-meaning,
some not so much.

What if All of Us
Innocents
have been Taught
the Wrong Tasks,

and

We’re Really
Here as
Beings made of
Light,

meant to
overwhelm those
Flickering Films with
Happy Acts
and Endings
created by Crews
from the Union of
Love and Light and Laughter.

(Photo by Amir Geshani; UnSplash)

 

The Art of Amplifying

When You think of
Love,
think of
a Wave,
an Oscillation,
a Pitch;
a vibrating
Frequency,
like the Signal that
Broadcasts

the Music
that fills
Your Soul
as if it’s Your
Mainsail.

On those days
when You believe
You must
separate
Your Reality
into
Good or Evil,
Divine or Mundane,
Levitating or Capsizing,
Beautifying or Debilitating . . .

Halt the
Classifying
for a Moment of
Contemplating
the Art of
Amplifying
the Frequency of
Love.

Turn up that
Dial of Desire
for Beauty,
and see if
You can
Transform that
Slithering Snake of
Despond
into a
Dancing Dervish of
Delight.

(Photo by Drew Colins; UnSplash)

 

The Imposter

Do You have
an Imposter
Who has
claimed
Your Identity?

Who has
infiltrated
Your waking
Self
such that
You believe
You are
the Narcissist
They seem to be?

The Self-Centered
Comfort-At-Any-Cost
Procrastinating
Easy Way Out on
The Path of Least Resistance
Christmas-Ignoring
Scrooge
They seem to be?

Or maybe You’ve
created Your own
Version of
The Black Hole.

Look again.

There’s a Seed,
made of
Love and Light and Laughter,
that just Now
sprouted
at the Bottom of
The Black Hole.

A “Rose is a Rose is a Rose”
that’s Blooming
the Hell out
until

The Black Hole
is nothing but
Artful
lattice and stonework
making Way
for a

Bloomfest.

(Photo by Victor Malyushev; UnSplash)

 

How Dare You?

How dare You
tell Your
incipient
Clown
to sit down and
shut up,

send Your
burgeoning
Weirdo
to Their
room,

ask Your
Serious Self
to open
the Door
when there’s a
Knock?

As if
it isn’t bad enough
that You tie
that useless
satin noose
around
Your neck
every day,
draped over
a garment
drained of
any color
that might
suggest
You’re Anything
less than
Solid Substance.

Have You forgotten
that there is
no Love
without Laughter?
No Light
without Lollapalooza?

That The Creator
is
Robin Williams
and
Richard Pryor
and
Phyllis Diller?

and

They made You
to
Laugh
Your
Ass
Off.

(Photo by Hikkyo Ikan; UnSplash)

 

Light Being

Let’s say
You’re in
The Black Hole.

Your Self-Examination
reveals a Self
so full of Flaws
You’re not sure
You can continue
to hide them,
especially from
Your Self.

It’s shameful,
the way You
wrap Your arms
around Your
self-inflicted
wounds,

refusing to
use those arms to
embrace
even those
Who desire
to feel Your arms
around Them,
scars and all,

Other Selves
with wounds
of Their own,
perhaps sitting
next to You,
there in
The Black Hole.

There are days
when You even believe
the best thing
would be to
pitch forward and
fall into The Abyss.

But there’s more
to You than
flaws and scars!

Emerging from
Somewhere near
Your Heart,
awaiting Your summons,

a Being
made of Light,
wearing
a shameless grin,
arms wide,

Who swallows You whole,
until You are
the Light Being,

and there is
no Black Hole
that can
hold You.

(Photo by Cristofer Maximilian; UnSplash)

 

Theater School

Daydream with Me
for a Spell.

Imagine We are Here
to Learn,
as Wise Ones say,
but let’s deepen that
a bit:

Let’s say
this Life is
Theater School.
We’re here to learn
to Act
from Scripts
penned with quills
dipped in Love.

Stories built from
narratives
straight from
The Mind of
The Divine Lover
Who built
The Theater.

Dramas,
some of them
quite wrenching,
nearly unbearable.

Comedies,
some of them
quite titillating.

But what if
You are also in
Theater School
to study to Be
a Playwright?

What if
You’re here
to Be
The Creator
Yourself?

(Photo by Ben White: UnSplash)

 

Sunday Sermon

A page from
a Holy Book
tells Us that
“The wages of Sin
is Death.”

Another page
explains that
“Sin is missing the Mark,
falling short of
the Glory of a
heavenly God.”

What if
the Idea
that Failure is
the Harbinger of Death
is not
so Holy?

What if Failure
is reason to
throw a Party?

Bring on
the Musicians,
set the Table with
the best dishes,
hire a crew of
Extraordinary Chefs,

Make the Failure
the Guest of Honor,
with a seat
reserved with a
Silver Sign
that says
“We Love You.”

Actually,
that’s a page
from that same
Holy Book.

You decide how
You want to
greet Your
Failures.

(Photo by Al Elmes; UnSplash)

 

Play By the Rules

All Your Life
You’ve been told
You’re not Enough.

In fact
the loudest Voice
has likely been
Your own.

Imagining
that You don’t
have Enough
to Be
the One
You’d Love
to Be.

But what if
Love is What
made You,
is What You’re
made of?

What if You
imagined
that if You
Play the Game
by the Rules
of Love,

that Love has
made certain
there will always
be More than
Enough?
That It can’t Be
Otherwise?

That Everything:
every Power,
every Object,
every Thought,
every Creation
is already There,
waiting for You
to claim it

for the Service of
The Love that
You Are.

(Photo by Janosch Lino; UnSplash)

 

Disrobe

Love is
The Great Disrober,
and, No …
I don’t mean
THAT,
for Goodness Sake …
You can do THAT
disrobing on
Your own time …

I’m talking about
The Black Robe
that hangs in
The Judicial Chambers
of Your Heart,

that You wear
in the Courtroom
of Your Mind
when You’re Judging
All That Is.

As If
All That Is
was Anything
Other
than another
Name for
The Divine,

when even
The Big Black Holy Books
You treat as Law
declare that

“God Is Love.”

So Who needs
another Name
beyond

Love
for All That Is?

Only Judges and
Holy Law Books.

So disrobe,
come off of the Bench
and out of the Courtroom.

Wear something
You Love.

(Photo by Majid Korang; UnSplash)