Theirs was a secret
as infinite
as timelessness…

cradled softly 
in the palm 
of their hands;

a whisper of evermore
a song of Always
a grain of eternity… 

beating through the Universe 
that shines 
through their eyes… 


Waking Dream…



She suggested that I write or to have a long bath… Two simple things that when time allows I indulge in: solace. Perhaps it’s the infrequency of those delicious moments. Though, I would Love nothing more than to do just that, the effort required feels unattainable tonight. The last time I attempted to write when she wasn’t home for the night, surfaced, as though I was pining child… or did it? Or was it simply, that I have been inexperienced with such deep intimacy, such Love, that I was justly expressing what it feels like to miss and to be missed; to Love and to be Loved. That it’s alright to feel; to truly be. That it’s a natural human response of Love and connection that is real and true; profoundly requited beyond earthly comprehension?  This is new for me. I have no prior experience from which to pull, tangibly. All I do know for certain… is that while I felt immense joy that she would be taking moments for herself and reconnecting with Loved ones who have had a tremendous hand in the beautiful creation of who she is, I missed her… And while tonight feels like déjà vu, tonight I danced. Tonight I missed. Tonight I Loved. Yes, tonight I Lived…



There in the hearts field of worthy;
of prayer and of Blessing bestowed
Sequestered in hand of The Artist
creator of breath and of soul…

Thy fleece of renewal lay gathered;
frayed edgings and carvings of gold
In heart is a promise of Always
where reach to a treasure unfolds…



As the smoke begins to
and the cinders fall to
the path to venture forward
with solitude and bless

To rise in heed of heaven’s
dear choir unto
to heal thy heart; unbridle
to set thy Spirit free…

Glory Be

Glory Be

Life, thy sacred grain…
that passeth through
the mouth of time;
on journey…
to a distal place
where heaviness unbinds

Though while on route
a dance begins…
unique thus, quite Divine;
where memory feeds
a flowers bloom
and doors begin to shine

Inscribed upon each blessed grain
a ‘way’ to travel forth;
with faith of heart
thy only need
to carry through
the door.