Genesis

I have seen the land strip itself of its vestments



And cover itself in the color which is the color of all colors when they move as one,



white light they call it



I have seen the white lay itself over


making all the lines and angles disappear
into one curving still mass,



nothing has a name anymore
It is part of the endless



It sparkles in its newness



And I watch as the white lets go
Recedes



Allows the things their names again
Their colors and their shapes


Their identities
But against the clean of that winter water
They look re-newed



Did their time as no-thing make them more of some-thing?



In this season of winter with its word root reaching back to a word for water



I see how it is this time which nourishes
It is this time which begins all



The first greens of spring and the bursting life of summer and the spilling forth of fall all begin in the white wet,



The seen begins in the unseen
That waits below its blanket of reflected light



And it always comes back to this
The sojourn in the desert
The sitting under a tree
The years on an island
Nights in a cave

It is in the Stillness



In the hearts winter



When we strip ourselves of our status and our accomplishments, our roles and our definitions, the lush and the green



When in earthly appearances we are dead
It is here the life thrums strong in the core



And the essence of what we are can be felt



Here where we are covered in the white light of our spirit
Absorbed into the cool purity of all that is


And here where the waters of our creator reach deep into the seeds that lay within awakening them to reach toward what they are meant to become



It is from here we unfold



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Santa Fe

Relationship

Everywhere light plays with shadow


Everywhere the contrast is making hard lines


And blended color


I see it when painting
Can I see it in life?


That two standing together are not always blended
Into one fine gradient


Sometimes they are hard black
Making a stand
Drawing a line


Other times they move softy together
Creating an expanse
Of forever


Either way
A picture is made


life is made
Beauty shines forth


Creation is served.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Santa Fe

Pilgrimage

In the dusty corners
Where places live forgotten




By all but a few dusty souls
Who know their secrets




It is in these places I walk
Into those dark corners




And see something shining




I look around
Does anyone else see it?




But there is only quiet
And space




And no words
Or waving hands to fill it




I lean down
And I feel the cool magic




Wash over me
It is a dream




Lost and forgotten




It waited for me here




Where my soul waters stilled enough




To see its reflection




I watch it dancing
And it fills me




The dusty corners
Of this sand swept
place




They fill me overflowing




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Corners of Northern New Mexico

Time Marches On

Sun slips across its arc spilling gold over that well worn curve whose degrees mercilessly
and mercifully
count the moments that make up a life.




Now, now, now it ticks, illuminating here and casting dim what lay just before and just ahead
It is almost painful to allow these moments their certain march into the haze of has been




but it is more painful to hold on, burying head in the shadows where the gold no longer shines. There is always more beauty waiting to alight itself
and it waits for me
to stop anxiously holding to the ever deepening shadows of past
so that I may turn my gaze toward golden now.




The breath always catches, I never expect life to keep delivering like a promise unending but it does, faithfully and surely as that sun riding its invisible line through the sky, counting time for us with its march,
the days and nights
minutes and hours.




Why do I not know by now? That there can be no growing smaller, no going back and the dream to stop growing is the only true death.




Love is free, it does not cling, to moments or people or things. It asks only that it may gaze upon the loveliness of this hour, where sun shines gold upon little curls




and the heart ignites into what it is and always was, love all aflame.

Location:Santa Fe