missing you

oh you

who leaves footprints everywhere

when will I ever see you

whenever I arrive

you are gone

dust still swirling of a passing presence

like the warmth of a loved one left in the chair

a strong unseen loving presence in a dream

like an emptied cup

the last falling drop

caught in the act of surrender

when will I ever catch you

like chasing a falling leaf on a windy day

shadows appearing and disappearing

around a dim lit corners

a warm breath

still curling in frigid winter air

always missing you

always just out of reach

to yearn for the day

when you and I are as one

more precious, more desired

you could not be

tease me no more

my intention grows more dear

it all becomes more clear

unity is the only path my heart yearns for

the long awaited

the steps of my home await

footprints surrendered

disappearing within


who is this love that waves its wand

lingering for just a moment

arising in a soul

arousing feelings of unity

then disappearing

leaving nothing but footprints of love

captured and released in the sands of time

who are you that comes and goes

who are you that weaves your wonder


Are you being controlled by your imagination?

This is the premise of the sages of every tradition.

The puppeteers go by many different names.

But in each case the puppet is as if asleep

controlled by another.

Engaging through its senses and perceptions in forms and dramas

at the behest of the imaginer who pulls the strings.

Occasionally the puppet wakes up and the puppeteer is silenced.

It experiences awareness and will – something barely perceptibly different

but does not realize its importance.

But it is not long until the strings become taunt and the puppet drifts back

into the delirium of submission.

Where is the will of the puppet?

It believes its will is that of the hidden imaginer who pulls the strings.

It believes the voice in its head is his their own rather than that of the imaginer.

The puppet under a spell of pulling threads does not know that it can dance on its own.

A dangerous question posed by the puppet threatens the imaginers existence.

Who am I?

A dangerous command does just as much damage.

Know thyself.

For the question and command bears the sharpened edge meant only for liberation.

Freedom to be with no strings attached.

linger by the opening

the entrance awaits

an empty space

a gateway to another

surrounding by form

yet allowing passage

at times open

at times closed

leading to the unknown

inviting the explorer within

beckoning the I

calling the soul

a void yearning to be filled

won’t you come

into my embrace