Arcoiris

(‘Arcoiris’ – rainbow)

I have seen skies in the arc of my iris
And walked as pure gold slants through the trees
I have stopped in a moment to stay for a lifetime
And only my focus fails me

I have tumbled, mumbled
As wind blown on a chainlink fence
Free
And with nothing to hold
But dreams
That fade from hazy beginnings
Into a dreamy past

Sometimes the jungle gets me down
Or simply catches me out
On a limb
Grey rain falls on green flesh
And solace enters indoors
To brood

Where are the revelations now?
So dry is the tongue that spoke them
So cold the heart
We once thought they warmed
A body dead to light and darkness
Eyes that barely see

Who comes here and takes my moment?
And how may it be so…easily had?
What is moving in this soul, so sharp?

I sought a space to meditate
And slept
I sought my smiling heart
But wept
What will this torturous mind give me next?

Although how could I dream?
Had my life not this depth…

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Touch the green dream

I move in a green mist
A million shades
Flexing
Deep as shadows in an ocean
Yet oceans we are not

Forest ascends, descends, surrounds me
Tastes, touches, sees and sounds me
Where is the centre?
I hunt

Hush
A word in wordless wonder
Timeless history lies unravelled
The people are gone but the spirits are moving
And everything
Moves on

Touch the green dream
A world is happening
Life unseen
Unheard, untouched

River

How is it the river knows the rush of my heart?
How is it my heart feels this river of rain?
Though two things distinct they are one and the same
Two firing synapses in a giant Earth-brain

Heart feels river’s rush, a cacophonous haste
Joyful tumult, freedom’s impatient embrace
Though sat on this bank my whole being is moving
Surging expression of pure life: ‘thus’

Take me, deep river, while I sit and be here now
Take me, show me, flow, for you know me
We share the same source, same course, ever onward
I am with you, deep river, by this earth we are bonded

Corcovado

(‘Corcovado’ – hunchback. ‘Osa’ – Osa Pacific Peninsula, Costa Rica)

Sands slope and seas rise
and I walk where they meet
Trees glide with skyward eyes
yet embrace Earth with twisted feet
Horizons lie on every side
where clouded skies will breach
Pachamama thrives in Osa guise
and in her mind I steep

Seven grades of green
mist into white from where I’ve come
Layers of this hunchback coast
So fade
as if undone
Ahead is mist as well
an equal mystery unsung
yet here go I in blood and bone
in lung
and living tongue

Jungle calls, rain falls
sands shift, reveal
clear mind amidst clouded Earth
a purity to feel
embedded Union
neither gift to us
nor luxury to steal
in my steps along this sodden beach
I see
I know
The Real

May Be Wrong

The peaceful day passes without protest
Or occasion
Although such peace
Is occasion
At times

To drink the day
Itself
And no more
Is to live
But where can I find the time?
Or the courage

Sometimes a green wind will rush
My senses find their foothold
And all can be right that was wrong

For maybe I was wrong

Form with Feeling

Now we really enter the jungle
I feel its weight against me
Drawing my breath
Breathing itself

I know it not in name but in form
And feeling
With its life it encircles, envelops
Folds you in

Into a land with no sky
But for outside its leaves
Warm, tight, secretive, silent –
For all the noise, no-one to hear

And this is really a silence
Quietude of rowdy wilds
In uninhabited glory;
Unadulterated, unacculturated
Billion-piece puzzle
Where can I move this piece?

It moves alone.