In dreams the interface between known
And unknown
Is as clear and simple as turning a card.
What was previously unknown
Becomes revealed,
The dream simply a series of such moments,
As the unconscious unfolds each moment.
Waking life is different,
More ambiguous as if consciousness
Is just the tip of a mountain above a sea of clouds,
So much unknown, but yet accepted as such,
A background sustaining what is
Merely personal and fleeting,
Our place in the world,
Our steps on the path we travel,
But all too often with uncertainty,
Certainly without the clarity of a dream
Unfolding with each ripe symbolic moment.
And then in life death comes,
The ultimate unknown
Revealed at last
Personal and fleeting, or
Universal and eternal…
Revealed but perhaps never grasped.
Such is the difference in dreams
And waking life,
Although both are clearly determined,
The unknown becomes the known,
And known the unknown,
In completely different way.
(8/31/26)
I have known courage
And it has not wept
And it has not slept
It dwindles in the night
When it is all dark
And pretends to shield when day breaks
I have known courage
And it has scars
Its crimson drops
Ageing soul and peace seeking
I have know courage
It has sought death
And resurrected on hope
I have known courage
It has left me beaten
Bandaged me in healing
I have known courage
It almost took my soul
And when I thought I didn't have anything left
It let the light trickle in
I have known courage
After everything,
I just hope I’m not one of your regrets.
But you should have known
we weren’t going anywhere.
You should have known we were doomed
when your replies slowed
and my heart grew loud.
You should have known we wouldn’t last
when I smiled less
and pretended more.
You should have known it was ending
when I stopped asking why —
Because silence is louder than questions.
You should have known it was over
when we started borrowing happiness
from strangers.
You should have known we were beyond saving
when temptation no longer tasted like guilt.
You should have known we were finished
when my name burned on your tongue
and yours stopped feeling like home in mine.
You should have known
when I flinched from your touch
and didn’t reach back.
You should have known it was over
when you planned a future
that didn’t sound like us —
and I imagined one without you.
You should have known.
And I should have known
that silence doesn’t save love.
I tried.
You tried.
We tried.
But we cannot cross an ocean
on a bridge
that was never built for two.
Before the mountains learned to rise,
Before the oceans found their tides,
Tiny travelers crossed the night,
Carried softly on cosmic light.
Particles born in distant stars,
Wandered far beyond the scars
Of ancient suns that burned away,
Leaving whispers in their wake.
They drifted through the silent deep,
Where galaxies and comets sleep,
Until the Earth, with open skies,
Welcomed them to a new sunrise.
They settled in the soil below,
In rivers where the wild things grow,
In every leaf and every stone,
Planting seeds yet to be known.
Through countless years they changed their form,
Enduring calm and weathered storm,
Becoming roots, becoming rain,
Becoming life again and again.
Within each heart, within each mind,
Their stellar fingerprints we find;
A hidden story, old and vast,
Connecting future to the past.
And from those fragments of the skies,
New dreams awakened, opened eyes.
What once was dust in endless space
Became a voice, a name, a place.
So when we seek what we may be,
Look upward to infinity—
For every wonder yet to bloom
Began as stardust finding room.
The pieman only simply turned, that
One pie be not
burned.' Simon simply overcome' with
empty gut, and tingling tongue..
Grabbed a deep dish, short crust one.'
Spake I need energy, i'm on a fun run
can I
Owe you for simply, this one?
a mouse is no good at being a wicket keeper
in a test match playing a game of cricket
or at a costume party as a dark grim reaper
or having an ice cream so tall he can’t lick it
so what then you ask can a mouse do with ease
the obvious answer has to do with some cheese
but it’s quite little known he can juggle with peas
You’re gazing at me,
expecting something I won’t give.
Because I’d rather be,
with anyone else,
than be with you.
Truthfully, I’m never actually
doing what I say I am.
I make up invisible boxes to be
checked with even more
translucent marks,
all to evade your presence.
For all you have said, done,
and driven me to do,
and for all the parts of me you have attacked
I don’t think you actually want me.
I think you’d rather be,
with me when I’m dancing with
a stranger.
Polite, distant, friendly, but never too friendly.
Does this mean,
you want to be a stranger to me?
Don’t want to know all my secrets, plights, fears, aspirations?
You want a filter for roaring waterfall,
but, unfortunately, you’ve bitten the apple,
and already know,
all you hate about me.
But, if you ask me, most apples taste
rather nice.
nothing is added or subtracted;
what you get is what you get,
Of all I hear of wild Amazon lands,
Of terraces and quiet shores of Bali,
Of Rome, where past and present join their hands—
Unless both seen and known, they seem but folly.
Of Stoic, hedonist philosophies;
Tall structures rising behind scaffolding;
And emblematic, vast theosophies—
Unseen, they fall to heavy dust-gathering.
How might I feel within the quiet tomb-womb
Of Mother Earth, wrapped in the final dust?
From here, like a pure lotus, I shall bloom;
Unseen and known, how can I grow in trust?
Can soul-deep truth be reaped from glance and eye,
When boundless streams of unseen wonders sigh?
Before the Breath — was shaped in Clay —
Before the Pulse — was stirred —
A Whisper — older than the Dust —
Pronounced a Hidden Word —
Ere Bone was knit to trembling Vein —
Or Sight — received its Sky —
The Infinite — with tender Hand —
Had marked Identity —
No Accident — the fragile Frame —
No vagrant — drifting Seed —
But known — as Morning knows the Sun —
Before the Light — proceeds —
A Sanctity — without Applause —
A Purpose — still — and deep —
As Roots — that toil in secret Earth —
While mortal Gardens — sleep —
O Mystery — that crowns the Small —
With Vast — unspoken Claim —
That God — before our Cry was heard —
Already — knew our Name —
To be loved is to be known.
I want to know every little thing about you.
Tell me what makes you tic.
What gets you out of bed on a bad day?
Or who?
And who do you think about right before you slip into sweet sleep?
What are all your favorites?
I want to know everything.
Who was your first loss?
First love?
What is your greatest wish?
Tell me every word of that "dumb" story you've told a thousand times.
Let me write it down.
Every time you smile, I want to know why.
I want to make you smile.
I want you to feel known.
I want you to feel loved.
The persecution twenty-six years long
Practitioners of Falun Dafa horrifically wronged
The China's regime, still no remorse
The face of retribution comes all in due course
The evil epidemic emerged from Wuhan
Rapidly, relentless, traversed the land
Over the seas and around the earth
The ccp virus was a karmic birth
Awaken people to the truth that's spread
Communism is a poisonous dread
It binds humanity into darkness and despair
Break the ties from the evils’ lair
Embrace the goodness of the Divine
The Creators’ Law, for all to find
Reflect deeply within your soul
Your true self will let you know
Truth, compassion and tolerance is good
The Greatness of Falun Dafa will be understood
Did you find me
Did you forget me
Was I to you a passing glance
A step you lost in mystic dance
I hear your voice in echoes deep
Your face a card my mind won't skip
Your lips have shaped my line with grace
My mind keeps heed your words your face
Is out of Sight
Your out of mind
Do I Twi your Light
Do I tweak your mind
Was I to you a passing glance
A step you lost in mystic dance
Did you forget me
Did you try to find me
Spring renewal,
a cycle for ideas too;
Old thoughts shed,
new thoughts grow.
Innovation blooms
like trees in bloom,
New branches
spreading from old ideas.
Diverse insights,
a bouquet of thought,
Invigorating growth,
like gentle rain.
Ideas rejuvenate
and flourish like a
field of flowers,
A fresh perspective,
a new season's start.
I have a quiet space
in the centre of myself
behind a high wall
where I go to listen.
I keep all my unwritten
poems there, some sleep
in a wordless dream
waiting to be awoken,
others are cloaked
in a vague notion
or an unshaped need
looking for way
to find form, a prayer
yet to be spoken
and be given a name.
Mostly though I hear
only the sound of myself,
my own machinery,
the taken breath,
my heartbeat, masking
what waits
to be made known.
Passion shaped by society
Duty weighed upon the soul
Conscience carved by philosophy
Emotion nurtured by humanity
Wonder blooms in dilemmas of thought,
Yet I live for someone unknown.
A silent bond, unseen, unfelt-
A feeling caught in life's great mystery.
Perhaps, in the end,
We are all just
Wondering into nothingness.
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