This Reflection
It often begins with yearning
And we articulate
That elusive hunger
In whatever form suits us
Some express it
With a finely drawn line
While others are drawn
By the strings of their heart
Some chase the acquisitions
Of a beautiful life
And others acquire good deeds
They count on like rosary beads
But this smokescreen of desire
Only serves to obscure
What we are really meant
To bring forth
For creativity
Isn’t something to sculpt
From the stone of our intentions
True creativity
Is an infinite resonance
Awakening
And who knows
Where it will lead?
Once the mind
Relinquishes its bag of tricks
We can let
That great deceiver rest
And become still
As an Ibis
Waiting in the marsh
Until no more ripples
Mar the surface
Of that clear pool inside
And our creations
Become a reflection
Of this reflection
THE TABLE
How long have I been a beggar
Stealing scraps from my Master’s table
Not realizing I was welcome
To the whole feast?
When you slipped through
That narrow crevasse
You stole my equipoise
Like a burglar in the night
Faced with your purity
I dump my tricks
Like the sack of bones
that they are
Friend, you are so welcome at this table
I have laid for you at last
When you arrive
Your presence stills my chatter
You blend innocence and wisdom
In a single gaze
That illuminates everything
You exist without judgment or attachment
In a moment that goes on forever