Up is -
indeed down, down, -
up; right, left, back again;
suddenly life turns on a dime:
yin, yang ...
There was once two twins
One gifted with the power of creation
One gifted with the power of strength
They cherished each other
Helping the other through harsh times
Until the strong twin desired for more strength
Although it was for good reason, the creator twin wanted the other to stay with her
But the strong twin was stubborn
This disagreement cleaved the two apart
Weaving hate and resentment between them
Each going their separate yet close paths
Until one day
They were reunited by their Maker
Though for malignant reasons
The creator and the strengthened, both cut down by their Maker
As the light faded from their eyes
The creator used the last of her energy
To make a weapon for the strengthened
With the balance of their souls shifting, the strengthened became the supernatural
With strength of mountains and agility like the wind
The grieving twin sought revenge on her Maker
Before the Maker could even comprehend, he was cut down
Just as he cut down the two twins
Oh, to be like the sea,
Transcending borders meant to tame me,
Powerful, free, and with immense depth,
Comforting and bringing smiles to those who wept.
To flirt with the sky,
Turning into hues of purple and blue.
To be unpredictable,
To be beyond anyone’s clue.
To be far from reach,
During nights turned grey and dreich.
To be able to lure seafarers,
To be an able life-bearer.
To be still, to be turbulent,
To be somber, to be benevolent.
To be the book of the stories that rivers carry,
To look identical to oceans, yet in every drop to vary.
I sit across the shore and sea, and I talk,
Sand sticking to my legs as I walk.
I look at its happiness when it pulls away,
Like a bird meant forever to be astray.
And again, all I desire is to be the sea,
From the shackles of perfection to be free.
Powerful, untamable, with immense depth,
To be comfort to all those who have wept.
So, I realize,
As the sea reflects the skies,
The sea is me, and I am the sea
The sea is she, addicted to being free.
Oh, I am so much like the sea,
Wanting to transcend borders meant to tame me,
Deep with immense depth,
Trying to bring smiles to all those who wept.
Why settle for the light
or the dark
why frame the frameless?
See the fledglings open mouth
so red so frantic to be fed
yet the soft parts around its hungry beak
are as yellow and bright as the sun.
The yellow is a frame, but the wide-open mouth
cannot be framed, not even by the sun.
The Lion has its jaws around the antelope's throat,
the antelope fights to escape no longer,
for now, both lion and prey
are frameless.
One has surrendered, the other has broken
out of its frame,
but which?
I feel powerful when birds fly away,
I approach– they erupt!
My agency clear on display,
To my illusive control,
I’m amused they obey,
It’s time’s dualistic dance,
of predator and prey,
Self awakens through others,
All becomes One, as we play,
I’m imprinting the present,
When I walk out of my way,
A flock by emergence,
Patterns form, never to stay,
Co-creating a moment,
Spikes spice into my day,
I feel so powerful,
When birds fly away.
Life drifts like morning mist on a quiet lake —
Soft, shimmering, hovering above still water,
Then vanishing with the sun’s first warmth,
Leaving ripples and quiet memory behind.
Life blooms like wildflowers on a windy hill —
Petals bright in dawn’s gentle hush,
Dancing in hope and fragile green,
Then wilt with the dusk’s slow sigh.
Life runs like a fleeting comet through a dark sky —
A bright, burning arc across the heavens,
Scattering stardust in hurried glory,
Then gone — leaving only a silent tail of longing.
Life pulses like the hush between two heartbeats —
A fragile pause neither young nor old can hold,
An instant of breath between past and future,
Where every sparkle, sorrow, and joy gathers.
So treasure each dawn like a rare unspoken promise,
Hold each breath as though it might be your last,
For life is but a fragile spark on the wind —
Brief, beautiful, and precious when embraced.
(“Morphogenesis Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil
“Dark Pool Nebula 3”, 2011, original oil)
From undifferentiated space
The fertilized egg does grow
Beginning without concept
Its karmic winds then blow
And as they blow and swirl about
A cloud of existence forms
And in the cloud we find ourselves
Trapped in existent norms
Norms expressed by polarities
Minds divided now by halves
As two from one we make our way
Along our separate paths.
But no matter if we laugh or cry
Our true nature’s yin and yang
And this birth gives us the chance
To grow through sturm und drang.
(11/18/25)
Good and evil intertwine,
In body, soul, and mind divine.
Demon star and angel glow—
Which one are you? Do you know?
Good and evil, seldom clear,
Judged by others, praised or feared.
For even saints, when darkness creeps,
May hide the demons that they keep.
The darkness kept in plainest sight,
It creeps beneath the shining light.
What mask we wear, we’ll never know,
Are you friend—or are you foe?
Only time shall tell us so.
When the facade cracks and all things decay,
What shows the truest way?
Virtue of heaven, bright and clear,
Or sins of hell, bold and feared?
All things reviewed by the mirror’s core,
Revealing who we truly are, evermore.
Shadows hold light and darkness at the same time.
We cannot be blessed with light without taking a sip of darkness.
Nothing
does not move
neither does
everything
thus no movement~
but we know
there is movement
must be magic
appearances~
(a story using
non duality
lingo)~~
All because of that single decision
To grasp that grate and breathe in the ethereal skies above
Rather than
To let go of that grate and suffocate in the foul sewage below
Because of what he chose
This is what he is
Independent
Not
Incarcerated
Whole
Not
Wounded
Confident
Not
Confused
Slipping off of the rusted edge, on which side will he land?
Brilliant
Not
Bleak
Courageous
Not
Cowardly
Relieved
Not
Remorseful
This is what he is
Because of what he chose
To grasp that grate and breathe in the ethereal skies above
Rather than
To let go of that grate and suffocate in the foul sewage below
All because of that single decision
Now, what if he wasn’t resolved in his decision?
Simply read the poem in reverse.
THE LAST IN LINE*
~~~~~~~~~~~
This poem was inspired by my favorite Ronnie James Dio song/lyrics, “The Last in Line.”
In the fading light of day,
will I find the shadows of my soul
dancing in the twilight,
or will the light reveal my truths,
as I sift through the ashes of my choices?
I pause, pondering
‘am I the architect of my own despair,
or the quiet poet of grace,
each heartbeat, a question,
each breath, a fragile answer?"
I trace the lines of my existence,
wondering if I am the last in line,
or the first to rise.
In silence, I confront myself,
the duality of my being~
the sinner and the saint
the dreamer and the realist
the last in line,
waiting for the truth now unveiled:
I am merely a human,
lost and found,
the last in line,
waiting for the first light
to guide me home.
*Note: I originally posted this poem at Poetry Soup in June 2025, the deleted it. (poetrysoup.com/poem/the_last_in_line_1740132) This is my original poem.
Our words have power
We don’t seem to understand
They are double-edged
(“The Particle In The Wave”, 2018, original encaustic)
Down to Zero
In the great equation of Life
Everything eventually cancels out
As it naturally balances
And leaves us down to zero.
From the perspective of static
The dynamic is the illusion
From the perspective of dynamic
The static is the illusion.
Buddhism with its notion of a final Nirvana
Takes the former
Taoism with its effortlessly flowing Wu-Wei
Takes the latter.
That is the East, while in the West
This paradoxical duality is expressed
Succinctly by quantum physics
As the wave and particle nature of light.
The reality is always, of course, different
Than what we think, when we’re at zero
And left with what it means to be alive;
In work or play, depending on our view.
(7/21/25)
The Sun is pretty–Yes ,we know,
It makes the sky and flowers glow.
But look too long, and you will find,
It's beauty scars. It's strikes you blind.
We're taught to chase what shines the most,
To the love ones who shine like ghosts.
But not all gold is made to keep ,
some glitters loud and cuts too deep.
Not every smile is safe or true,
Not every life is meant for you.
some lovely things will draw you near,
Then leave you burned, alone with fear.
So, next time beauty pulls you in,
Remember this beneath your skin:
Even the Sun, is all its grace,
can leave a mark, you can't erase
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