Buddha Morning

From the quiet cracks of streaming sunlight,

To the sound of the city waking up-

The pulse of the day is beginning and finding it's rhythm.

Fairytales of sandcastle and 401k's

Streaming through the collective mind consciousness.

And all the worries of desire-attachment circling

And all the pains of ignorance, kept

And all the slaves of anger

wearing away...

Into this dream I go.

And little boys with sleepy eyes

And freckled summer skin

Cling onto fairytales and sandcastles

from which they see

for miles and miles around them.

Take me to my mountain lake

With tattered, wooden bridge

And sing the song of Summer's end,

Beyond the humming wind

of motors and highways

and sandcastles made of stone.

Or give me just, this-

sweet morning-time snuggle

from this-

sun-kissed, freckled boy

and say,

"Good morning, you are blessed."

Everything is Changing

The immense possibilities of being in control and powerful is... limitless, and... indescribable.

This could be applicable to anything. But I'm speaking in terms of energetic interaction with the universe.

Just walking down the street on a summer's quiet eve - I sense the world alive around me. The interconnectedness of everything - that, on one hand seeks to be explained by my conceptual mind, whilst, on the other hand wishes only to be... to linger in that moment of complete and utter perfection. Without words. Without meaning.

And in another instant, it is gone.

Washing over me like a dream.

This is the ultimate truth of this, our human existence.