art

I listen to reality

Today it told me

What I knew to be God

I met in another soul

I saw the sun for the first time today. It was breathtaking.

I watched the water. I became the ocean and the sea.

And then, a seagull. Frozen in air, suspended in rhyme.

And then, right then and there, I was awe.

The clouds and sky with no flaw.

I couldn’t look away. It was the first time I didn’t. And what a world it is in front of me.

It is now past. I am still freed by the radiance of light. Everything is truly bright.

And so I weep. For I can now sleep.

The face that sees me is the one I see in you.

I am Love, you and me.

And we are free.

Truly as can be.

And with that, I say

I’ll see you again another day.

And yet, within this cosmic dance, there is something deeply personal.

Even in the wrestling, there is reverence.

What are we but cosmic gamblers, drawn by this erotic pull toward existence?

The danger isn’t insanity; it’s illusion and annihilation.

Because beneath all of it, something more fundamental remains:

A clarity that cannot be undone.

A knowing that will never fade.

A truth that, no matter how much you play with chaos, endures.

That is who you are.

Divine play, a sacred madness.

The greatest mistake of my life was believing that I was alone. It took losing everything to realize I had nothing to lose. That I was always love.

—

Time in timeless

Move in moveless

Past, future, now

What's knowing this life?

I, me, livingness, free

Everything nothing and full of glee

Freedom is to be graced by the eternal stillness at the break of time. To know and sense the unchangeable absolute - pure faith. I forever see the smile of God and hear the lull of nirvanic mystery. I live the face of the universe.

Reality is a fierce beast, she does not let up easily; she is the true fight for the divine.

I surrender to the untamed unknown and yield to unyielding - the annihilation of illusion is but a relentless wild.

I’m scared by the ferocity of truth. And yet, here I am, being thrown into mystery.

Can you lay with me?

For a minute,

Before the day starts.

Can you stay with me?

Hold me close,

Tell me it'll be alright.

Can I be with you?

Through the good times and bad,

Find me calling you home.

Can I laugh with you?

Wonder about the stars,

Lost in this world.

Forever in those eyes

I see a world so grand

A future I can't believe

But was here all along

I’m stuck. I’ve been living the same day for years. I’ve gotten so used to time that seasons left goodbye.

In these years, I’ve watched myself die. I’d look in the mirror and see no color in these eyes.

I’d look into each iris and follow the memories. They’d go round and round just to leave me the same. Nothing ever happens, they say. I suppose they were right.

My mind went for loops and the days went for nights. There was no way out. But how did I get in?

I’d walk the park and sit on my favorite bench. The tree was always the tree. Each grass just as lonely as me.

Even when things were familiar, I was nothing but lost. Not in the world, but of my mind.

And so, I wondered who I was. Who I really am. What was meant to be?

I didn’t know. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt me. Each iris to thought to tree led right back to me. But how could that be?

I was too scared to face my life, because there had to be a why. Something to make up for everything, make everything right.

I knew there wasn’t. Or at least that’s what I fooled myself to believe.

I’d understood nothing, which opened everything. I had to let up faith, for faith to really be.

I’ve been searching for an answer, a wanderer of time. I had to lie, about the lie, to let the truth finally rise.

God has opened my eyes with visions of a hidden universe. A blessed curse, a sacred need to see it all. It will never end, and neither can I.

Troubled with eternal stillness and graced by holy fire, a world emerges. To forever remain a mystery. There is no end.

I will know peace. An angel a wing away. But never in my grasp.

I am touched and haunted by ephemeral love. What is be my God?

To live is to paint the canvas of your being; to write the lyric of your soul; to sing the tears of the heart

You are the space between what was and what’s to be - a tempest of opportunity, filled with infinite wonder and peril.

Be the artist of your mind! Scribble all over and draw on the textures of sound and the shapes of emotion and the waves of sentience, and see what masterpiece emerges.

That masterpiece that is you. A manifesto of pure creation and destruction, over and over and over again. Until your last dying breath, as you wander off into the wild…

Remember as you explore, you are both lost and found. Free and bound. Argue with the edges of your world and see how reality negotiates.

Experience is but a beast, you are the monster and the tamed. The warden of your dreams, the conductor of your visions. Of what is. Of what will. And of what was told.

Do not fear the power of your being.

Do not temper the fire of your soul:

A mystery that knows no end.

You are a story of revelation;

A true declaration of becoming.

The dance of existence

The song of experience

Liminal symphony

Ephemeral harmony

I conduct the puppet strings

And so does he

Reality and me

Together this brings

This weaver of time

My lever of rhyme

Alchemical trickery

Nothing mastery

So free

So glee

No be

Just me

We artists of being

What a bittersweet and beautiful feeling it is to relive the past in the now. To see the world again through those young eyes is quite something.

Many times I’ll go back to a certain day or moment or place and see it directly and wander that fleeting world. I’ll probe each memory to see again just how blue the water was that one day or how joy felt when I was a child.

It’s quite something because there’s just so much, all of it. I’ll start seeing the red and blue and green of my drawer and the tv that was on top. And then I’ll start seeing it through younger me’s eyes; and you start to sense the confusion and wonder and fear and pain all over again.

It’s quite something because as you feel, you don’t know what to feel. It’s like your being is in two worlds at once. And unfortunately, you can’t choose which one is now.

As the lines between the imaginal and liminal blur, you can’t help but feel that lostness. That in which you know who you are by way of your life and the worlds you’ve inhabited, but are unsure of which ones you've created. Many times you ask, why me? Or is it because of me?

The truth is there is no truth. And there is the truth. And there is your truth. And there is everyone else’s and the world’s.

I wonder which eyes will see the world again and tomorrow. The day after that as yesterday’s past.

Suffering is the fear of uncertainty, and everything we do to keep that at bay.

It makes no sense, because the unknown is certain. Everything else isn’t. And so we hold on so tight to what we know and what we think is right and what we think is me.

But I don’t know how to not be scared. I don’t know how to not be angry at the world about my pain. And I see everyone else too, doing the same thing.

Many times I’ve asked, why God? Why this? What is this? How am I supposed to be okay with all of this?

There is no answer that’s good enough. There is no answer that makes the suffering worth it.

And yet, we dance. And sing. And cry and love.

The pursuit of understanding is what we do. And it’s gotten us quite far. But what now? When the questions never end?

I suppose all we can do is find embrace in the world and each other; for the pursuit of happiness is not to understand, but to be.

And that pursuit is whatever it takes to get there. And what a journey that can be.

Earlier today, I decided to go by the ocean. To just sit on a bench and listen to the waves.

It was a beautiful morning; the sun was powerful, and the wind had a warm embrace to it this time. Finally, a change! Spring is near.

As I sat and watched the fishermen cast their lines, I remembered the last and first time I did that.

It was a few years ago, by a different sea. There were mosquitoes everywhere, and somehow, we managed to catch this one ugly looking brown thing. Fortunately, his appearance was what led him to see another day.

I remembered the picture I took of my friend holding him up, which reminded me how whenever I’d see this particular photo, the next one would always be of my other friend’s dog, Bailey.

Bailey was a big girl, a beautiful Rottweiler. I remembered how every time I opened the front door, she’d be there to greet me. She’d always put her paws up on me, which hurt a lot. Tongue was always out, and even now I can hear what her excitement sounded like. She was the guardian of the basement, where all our treasures lie. Days and days of ping pong, getting mad over NHL games and how the game was rigged, and where I’d always sit on the couch with my juul next to me snuck between the cushions.

I remembered how we’d leave at night to go to an abandoned shed by town, where we’d come stocked with apples and weed. Oh man, you should’ve seen how surgical I was with those apple bowls. Now that was art. The secret was in using a chopstick—not a straw or pen because that always messed up the airflow.

We would go inside the shed and sit on this dead log, and get high and laugh and chat about our days. Sometimes, we’d bring some joints if we were really indulging. Those were always a treat. And I have to brag here, because to this day no one has rolled one better than me.

I remembered the first time I had smoked a joint; it was actually a week after we had come back from Cuba. I used to play baritone sax, and our high school band got to play around the country for the locals. That was cool.

My favorite song we played was New York, New York by Frank Sinatra, and they loved it too. There was that one time in Havana where we played it a few times back to back. Encores galore!

Those days in Havana were something else. There was this one afternoon where we went to the big marketplace in town. We had twenty minutes to walk around and shop, and of course with us being us, we snuck out onto the streets and started asking for cigars. A bit stereotypical I know, but could you blame us? And if you’ve had the fortune of smoking a Cuban, you would’ve done the same thing too, I bet.

As we were asking around, a man came up to us. He knew what was up. And so we followed him down a few backroads to this little room. This room was a treasure chest. In one corner were boxes and boxes of Cohibas and Montecristos and Romeo y Julietas. In another was this man sitting at his table, watching soccer from a small TV caged behind some bars.

We bought as many as we could, and impatiently waited for the night. The hotel we stayed at in Havana had a balcony on each room, and our chaperones were on another floor. So we all convened as the moon rose to revel in our findings.

That first one I smoked was a Montecristo #4. Now this was the first time me and nicotine met, and what a way to enshrine our entangling for the years to come. That buzz, I shit you not, lasted for hours. We had the time of our lives.

I remembered how I looked at the water then. It was so blue, and it went on for miles and miles. Just blue.

And now, here I am again, me and blue. And waves and wind and seagulls.

I wonder if the ocean knows of its treasures and remembers them too. That we’ve both been graced by the laughter of the waves and each other.

And as the ocean whispers back, it is the silent keeper of story. Because as I remember, it seems the world does too.

I like living a story. Now that suffering has been mostly tamed, I find myself wanting it to be an element of my being. Who knew it would turn out this way? Lol

I like drugs and the euphoria and pain it brings. I like the journey it takes me on, as messed up as it is. I like being weird and fucked in the head. Why? Because that’s who I am.

I’ve spent a lifetime hating myself and now that I don’t but also don’t really give a fuck, life has been a wonderful exploration and series of self-experiments to see how bad bad can get and how good good is.

Of course, it took everything in me to get here. And more. I’ve come so close to a willing death - to the true absence of hope.

That singular moment when I fully gave up was the necessary surrender to ignite the alchemy. I remember it so clearly now. When surrender became salvation.

So what is there to fear really when you’ve been kidnapped into the lower realms? When you’ve had no choice but to figure out what the actual fuck was going on in your head to find a way through?

Well it turns out a lot of things; but what I fear no more is my lack of faith. Beyond my soul, that I am.

I decided to stop being bad for a few days and yeah my body is much better and my mind is much clearer and my emotions and thoughts are much more manipulatable and I’m just more able - but where’s the fun in that?

There’s a time and place for everything, and for me, as soon as my dark night is over it’s so over for you bitches

But maybe I don’t want the darkness to end, because it is my friend; because I’m no longer its victim, but a willing participant.

I suppose, at the end of the day, maybe I was just born the wild.

These days, I walk with a limp.

My muscles and bones have felt too much weight. But, it has been transforming.

My left side frozen, my left hip contorted, my left shoulder thwarted. And now, the release.

As reality opens, so do I. Every fiber of my being infused with light. My mind removed from illusion into stillness.

Peace is a moment away, so I follow the way.

I wait for my mind to be free, unbounded by the world.

I listen for the crickets.

How do you know? That what you have is real? That the love you found is the one that found you? That it wasn’t forced or had, and was just what needed to be?

I don’t. And I’m scared. I’m so lost.

But I have to fight, and pray I’m right.

That my other is near,

Because the stars have their night.

When you face your demons, reality will reward you with the eyes of primordial art. Everything is and always will be drawn perfectly. What’s real will be a dream. And yet, instead of being consumed, you become. Liberated, as the wind.

Through the fire of seeking

Emerge child’s laugh.

The prison and release;

I was always here,

Somewhere nowhere to be.

I don’t think. I don’t know how to really. The words come to me. I let the universe flow through me. She’s much smarter than I’ll ever be!

I’m a simple being. I chase good feelings. And guess what? Nothing beats love. To feel such profound beauty, and to know it too. How lucky am I to be a fool?

Why must it be

Hope the most dangerous

And despair the most faithful

Is it the world or is it me?

I can never seem to tell

Maybe that is my curse

My cosmic burden to bear

It’s time to get lost at sea

To wander the dark forest

For you will find the light

And the light will find you

there’s this Boy, he looks out and sees-

lazy bees,

towering trees,

wandering peas,

and a softhearted breeze.

he thinks and wonders;

such striking colors!

what can i uncover;

Where is my mother?

he lives and ponders;

Figures grow duller.

Who is my brother;

Why must we suffer?

he laughs and cries;

I don’t like goodbyes!

such beautiful eyes;

i fight being wise.

He wishes and utters;

i like pools and summer.

Why must I shudder

At what i discover?

There’s this boy, he looks out and sees-

Endless pleas,

Whispering seas,

Knowing it flees,

And accepting that frees.

Painted days: windows of light

Dwelling in despair.

Yearn, plead against the fight

Should I right or just lay bare?

Deep glows beyond my scope

Yet nothing, ever seething

Bargain must, mustn't hope

All hues, dumbly screaming

Traveler begs-

I can't take more.

I have to see!

Last undying score.

Muse,

Cannot tame this seek

Dream,

Must lame this peace

Bleeding moments so small,

I resign:

Grasping cosmic call.

Awaken, my child.

“This prison I can’t escape

This prison I guess is me"

As I sit here with tears running down my face,

I finally give in.

One last breath-

I surrender, let darkness win.

And darkness no more.

Everything has lifted. What is this I feel?

Something’s changed.

I open my eyes.

She is brighter.

I feel lighter-

Am I free?

One more breath.

Air gives me life-

Is this glee?

I get up.

One step. And then another. And another.

The world is cold no more.

More tears. No pain. Only joy.

Time to find me-

For all eternity.

I don't know how to be, But now I am free

I don't know what changed, But I like what I see

I fear what I witness,

I move on with quickness,

The sun is going down,

I am lost yet I am found.

I wonder the past, I wander the future

Human I suppose, A creature I chose

Sometimes I get it,

Moments never last.

What is the present?

I’m haunted by my past.

I am me and I am free,

I am free but I am me.

Maybe this is how to be.

So what to do now,

I stumble about.

Wait,

Am I the now?

How funny to see!

I am the matter, I exist and scatter

This twisted journey!

Yet I laugh,

Why do I yearn me?

So who is me

When time has no last.

For now,

Is but a moment past.

I am me-I am free

What a journey,

Forever mystery of glee.