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Spiritual Poetry


Sometimes I have fantasies
Of potential hurts
That never will happen.
Such is the soup of ego,
A bizarre concoction
Of 'high' and 'low',
Better see it for what it is
Or it'll be a bitter ride.

High Volume Threshold

The spine stiffens to attention
in shakti based erection.
The force of existence
washes upon awareness
with waves of infinity.

Cells of the body
dance with each other
in effervescent awakeness.
It's just on the edge
of too much to handle.
My body may explode any second
into millions of pieces.
But let it be so.

The body-mind needs prepping
for higher volumes of spirit.
It's like breaking the sound barrier,
awash with intensity,
to find sweet relief
on the other side of the threshold
a place of deep silence,
a land of joyful love


The world of appearances
appears like a wall,
flimsy as paper-mache.
The sword of Awareness
does slice the facade,
revealing its nature,
a vision beyond words.

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