Orange Sun

The orange sun
reveals my ignorance.
I still have much to learn.

I have traveled
many hard-won miles
to come to the place
where, on looking back,
I see with perfect clarity
that I am not the same
as I was.

I think of myself
as a spiritual person,
but now, in the light
of this orange sun I see
that there are an infinite
number of levels to climb,
an uncountable number
of steps left to take.

This orange sun
shines on one
not the same
as other orange suns
have shone on before,
and under the next
orange sun yet another
completely different person
will be revealed.

If I am still growing
then moments like these
must be the growing pains.

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I Am Not Here

This is not my reality
even though it is what I
taste, touch, smell and see.

While my body is here,
my True Self is elsewhere.

I now have a dream,
I now have a purpose,
I now have a reason,
a goal I wish to attain.

I will realize my dreams,
I will live the life I want.

Every day brings me one step closer
to everything I have already become.

6-6-2017

Reflections

Reflections clash with reflections
clashing with reality,
No way to tell what is real
or meant to be,
Through this confusion
I must chart my course,
Following in the natural current
of my life and not using force.

I can not tell you what is right or wrong,

I can only point out these reflections
are here, then gone,
No way to pick
the right or wrong one,
You make a choice
and then you’re done,
So go with your feelings
and choose the best-feeling one.

The Goatpen Is Silent

The goatpen is silent.

It could be because of the rain
its residents have taken shelter inside,
It could be because two are gone
the black one’s son and the lonely mother.

Whatever the reason only two remain,
the others sold off, now living in a new home
along with the two long-gone little kids.

The carefree summer I remember is gone,
there are no more games of headbutt and tag,
and I must leave my parents
like these two remaining goats.

I am grieving, but I have no tears,
the rain shall be my tears
with its constant falling.

The goatpen rests under a heavy,
somber cloak of silence
and it is still raining.

Hell

This body
is too old,
this life,
is too long

for this young spirit.

My soul
may be old,
my heart
is lined with scars,

but my spirit is young.

It belongs to a man
who never really enjoyed
his childhood
and the process

of growing older.

I want to carve into
this aging flesh,
let the life-blood flow out
into the ancient earth,

releasing my young spirit.

I want to teach
my soul a lesson,
that pain should never
be inevitable,

that suffering should never
be prolonged,
that by the time the flesh,
has reached its middle years,

some happiness
must have been found,
some enjoyment of life
must have been experienced.

You can not scare me
with threats of hell,
I am in hell,
with every breath I take.

I yearn to be happy,
I yearn to be free.

If i can release this pain
with something sharp,
a blade, a piece of glass,
draining it from me…

Maybe
when it is finished,
I shall finally find
happiness and freedom.

Hope is dream
of the pitiful,
the dirt a starving man eats
to fill his empty belly.

To dream
is to be delusional.
Better to accept
your awful fate

then to fight it.

Peace

After many hours enclosed,
studying, I step outside
into the cool, evening air,
to find myself expanded,
filled with awareness,
almost even happy.

Everything is so much
bigger now, bigger than
the narrow confines
of my overworked,
exhausted mind.

The light of the setting sun,
these peaceful, floating clouds,
recharging batteries long seeming
dead, and empty.

Washing away the darkness
of the past hellish days
and cleaning some of
their stain from
my heart.

Unexpectedly, I feel peace.