A New Wrinkle

God throws rocks at me.

Actually, small pebbles.

I don’t know much about the misses,

But the hits get my attention.

At times, pebbles plunk

Into the pool of my being ness.

Yes, right there.

In the middle

In the heart.

They hit me in the heart

And reverberate.

The ripples go out from my heart,

Melting my reserve.

Collapsing my self-consciousness.

Mobilizing my vulnerability

And feeling full ness.

Like a little bird,

I have only one reason

To exist…

My song,

Whether I sing it out loud

Or just let it ping pong

Inside me.

This is how it is

When I’ve been hit

By one of God’s little stones.

Would you recognize this condition

If you were around me?

I think so,

Because it makes me goofy.

My world gets turned

Upside down.

Or maybe right side up.

I am be mused.

There is a Cheshire curl

To my smile,

A suppleness to my presence,

And a honeyed invitation

In the few words that I otter.

I wouldn’t hurt a soul,

Because there is nobody else

Out there.

The sun is my blood,

Keeping me warm.

The breeze is my breathe,

Testing my surroundings.

My eyes are God’s eyes,

Appreciating the beauty

That is all around me.

And maybe I am mistaken.

Maybe there is no outside God

Throwing pebbles

Or thunderbolts.

Maybe it’s just the inside God.

The One; no different than me,

Who, like the sunrise,

Is trying to illuminate

My inner landscape

With love, beauty and awareness.

In the Past this place

Was a bitter, but illusory,

Battleground,

A cemetery for fallen heroes

And vicious tyrants.

All of it is me,

The trauma,

The pleasures,

The journey.

I’ve been playing

A dangerous game

Of hide and seek.

And now the seeking

Is bringing me home.

Every inner sunrise

Illuminates

Who I really am.

More and more

It’s happening.

Every pebble blow

To the heart

Is waking up something inside me.

There is an effervescence,

An inner eruption going on,

A slow boil

In a pot of liquid love.

I am glad that my glasses

Are all steamed up.

Now I look through different eyes,

Through the eyes of my heart,

Where the songs of small birds

Make front page news.