Spiritual Warrior

The heart sometimes
Leaves an easy trail to follow,
Like footprints in the newly fallen snow.
I know where I have been,
All I have to do is look at the tracks
Made by my heart.

I know so little about us.
no matter how much we talk,
I never really know what is inside
Just behind your dark brown eyes.
I never know where I stand
In your dreams

And in your desires.
I never know how deeply
You drink from my heart's well.

In time, I will not question us,
Nor worry about the sunrises
That will bring more light to our life.
I have you now.
At this very moment,
That is all I need.
That is all I ever needed!

*A Grand Canyon experience April 1997

The very breath
Of spiritual life
Flows through these vast canyons
Resting between walled-mountain arms.
Down below

In the dark shadows
Ravens soar
As they listen
To the voices

Of long ago.

The sky touches
The top of the horizon,
Holding onto it
Like a mother
Holding her small child.

The sun dances gently above,
Making the snow-covered canyons
Sparkle like jewels

Hung on a rock wall.

I search the vastness
And seek to know it
As well as the raven,
But I am limited
To view this moment

Only as a visitor.

This morning lives

Only to please.

There is no place

For a closed heart

Or troubled thoughts.

My spirit 

Soars with the raven.

We are bonded together

In this moment,

One with the spirit lands.

One with the past.

I can feel 

Ancient brothers within.

I know them in this place

As I walk 

Where they once journeyed. 

I look skyward

And feel the spirits in the sky.

I gaze out across the valleys 

And I know

That their God 

And Mine 

Are ONE in the same. 

Brother raven,

Bird of many visions

And dreams, 

Like a ghost-dancer across time,

I open my heart to you.

Hear my silent prayers

For my Mother Earth

And Sister Sky. 

Messengers
Are like pockets;
Neither is comfortable
With its own self Unless filled
With a message
Or a warm hand.

I came to see you.
But you took

The moment away
without as much as a thought,
And the message
Became lost and unwelcome.

I stood there feeling

Like empty pockets
And old lint,
Wanting to cry. 

When I saw my wife

Look at our son,
I knew love's deepest secret:
That to know real love
You must become a mother

With large brown angel-eyes
And an angel face.

I saw the joy
In her love
And knew
That no husband
Or father

Could ever

Share
Or know
Such a moment.

If angels have faces,
Then sometimes they must
Look just like mothers.
Sometimes they might
Even look like wives.
But sometimes,
There is no diffeence.

I know,
I saw
An angel
And she
Was my wife
And mother
Of our son!

I used to love you
Almost as much
As crunchy
Peanut Butter.

I was so much
Younger then.

I did not realize
How good
You could taste
Spread out
On a sandwich
Of beach and sky.

Now,
I must admit
That my tastes have changed,
However, I still like you better

Than peanut butter

Most of the time,
But it is close.

I stepped outside
Of myself yesterday
And found now
Waiting for me.
I saw within
The golden haze
A dark-skinned yogi
Smiling at me. 

He greeted me
Without saying a word.

Then I understood

That all visions
And all gurus
Are within us already.

If we just
Step outside our thoughts
To see
And to listen.

Sometimes
Someone says something
That lays a footprint

On The surface of my memory,
Much like those
That were fossilized on the moon
By lonesome

Astronauts.

When I awoke
This morning
And saw you standing
Silhouetted against the dawn's
Morning light, 

I heard you whisper my name.

It sounded like
The music one hears

Only within seashells
Or dreams.
It sounded
Like love.

It sounded

Like us. 

Love lies hidden

In the quietness 

Of rocks

And on beaches

Where no one has yet to walk

Or has even touched 

With their dreams.

Love is hidden on cloudy days

And in darkened skies, 

Needing only to be discovered 

By young lovers

Huddled up

In the warmth 

Of each other. 

They do not need windows to see 

That love is a cousin of the wind.

It can be felt

But not easily seen. 

The Grand Canyon 1997

Returning rivers

To the womb of the sea,

Stopping only long enough 

To take a part of us

From the the canyon walls

Of our heart. 

I look down from the ledges

Of your journey

And see the traces 

Of your wanderings

Through time. 

I wonder

How many others have stood here

Before me

Seeking answers within?

I hear the drums 

Of the Hopi

And the singing of the gods within. 

I cry out to the raven, 

"Must we all return Like the Colorado River,

Craving paths

And creating canyons

In the hearts and minds of others

On our countless journeys

To and from the womb?"

Then the raven whispered back to me,

"None of this is real.

We have never

Left the womb.

All is delusion

You are free to soar

And to ascend to the heavens.

No one is forever

Trapped in the canyon lands

Of the soul." 

The moon encircled
By a misty glow
And us
Enclosed in loving arms
With thoughts of
Wonders  and miracles
That this night
May bring.

Oh, somewhere
Poets are writing
Unhappy verse
And drowning
On their depressed prose
Of lost love.

But you and I
Share this moment
under a night sky
Filled with starry-eyed witnesses
While the earthen womb
Under our feet
Confesses to love both of us.

What more could we
Ever ask
On any night? 

I've danced with fire
On my own highway of desire.
I've stood by
Watching how others
Got drawn into
Those hot flames
Like months
Flirting with cremation.

Oh yes, I was tempted
To reach out and embrace
Those roaring fires too!
But so far,
I've managed to step back
From the edge
And avoid seriously burning
My apprentice angel wings.

However, I must admit
To being close enough, on occasion,  
To get some
Smoke in my eyes!

How did God,
Just sit there,
Watching all those angels
That fell to earth.
Without shedding
So much as a tear?

I cried last night
Looking outside
from my window
As fallen raindrops
And leaves
Just laid there,
Dying
All alone
On that cold, wet sidewalk.  

Didn't we just walk on this beach
Yesterday?
Where are all our footprints
That carried us across
This sandy shore?

There are
No traces
Left to mark
Our place
In time or space.
The tides have
Washed all the evidence away

Of any previous journeys.

Sometimes
I wonder if
I lived before
On other beaches
In some other time?

Just because the tides
Have washed away
All the footprints

Doesn't mean
I wasn't there.

I stare across my table
And warm coffee

At the mass of people drifting
Across my view.

They go by me
As if life

Had more meaning than
Just a journey of the heart.

I see some dressed in business suits
And expressions of fear
Fear of tomorrow,
Of today,
Of the tax man,
And death.

Lovers strolling past, hand in hand,
Going somewhere,
But it seems to not matter where.

Hordes of faceless people searching
For that road sign that points the way

To any exit from here. 

I sip my coffee and scan the view

For friendship and love

that might pass me by.

It is a tired and endless highway

Of eyes, all afraid to look into mine,

All afraid of what others think and say,

They keep moving,

Never stopping to

Connect with me

At my little table

on a sidewalk

in Paris. 

Hawaiian Islands, July 1964

Lover by the sea,
you came to me
And wrote poems

And wove dreams

Upon my sandy mind.

The footprints

Of your passion
Still dances within,
Beyond the reach
Of the hungry tide. 

I love the music of the morning
As raindrops

Beat out their rhythms
On my bedroom window panes.

I have heard that beat before

Under tin roofs

In faraway jungles

Where lonesome young warriors,

Not understanding 

The rhythms of that rain, 

Nor life,

Cried to the beat

Of that falling rain. 

Now that I am laying here

Next to you 

I have no fears.

No anger.

No worries

About bombs

Or tomorrows.

I have learned to love 

The rhythm of the rain.

I have learned to love you. 

I have learned to love me.

So I am satisfied

Just sleeping here with you

While listening to the falling rain

And the beating of your heart.

I have learned to love both

As somehow

They were one in the same.