The evening air is still—
Black ice it lies in waiting—
Walking with the cold
I watch asphalt exhaling.
If winter had a home—
Or frost a day to rest—
It be within this heart,
It be within this breath.
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Consciousness
If you’re not sure
then pause, wait
and listen to the sounds
of conscious—nothing—ness.
A holy moment.
Taking a moment
to examine your palm
is a holy moment.
And those lines, well
they’re the most honest
you’ll ever read.
Her morning meditation
Her silence is an offering
The morning sun’s a gift
Her morning meditation
I watch as my mind drifts
Our backyard is a symphony
The melody and pitch
Free from all temptation
Her presence does enrich
Morning Meditation
Like clockwork
yesterday turns today’s
hand backward
toward awakening.
I open my eyes knowing
I open my eyes knowing
everything I need
lies within
the shores of freedom’s water
Let breath become the ocean
each inhalation I do see
the shores of freedom’s water
are washing over me,
and with each exhalation
the ocean starts to breathe
I open my eyes gently
to gaze upon the sea.
the air of my ancestors
I fill my lungs
with the air of my ancestors
knowing my purpose
is their peace.
Words Of An Average White Male 