Giuseppe Verdi

Although we may never get to see them again,
never get to hear their interpretation or experience,
we have the humble privilege of knowing that someone is moved by our vibration,
whether it be with canvass or sound.

My New Voice

There's a pressure inside
about needing to be more
of something that I am not.
I place these high expectations
on being different or other than this moment,
on solving things that have not yet happened,
things that may never be.

I am observing these jagged little edges of my psyche,
unsatisfied until fully guilt ridden.
Reminding of every indiscretion,
recalling every nuance of my imperfect existence.
For what?
I cannot tell you.

What I know is that this is the moment.
This a moment of true aliveness.
Now, beating in my chest,
rippling the air around me.
The other is also here,
but it is no longer my voice.

Journeying Boy

"What is it you seek, oh journeying boy?"

"Why does my heart feel so alone here?
What has been lost of me?
Why is it that I seek to know the greatest mysteries,
and all I find are paths upon paths of confusion?
I ask then,
why should I continue without map or guide?"

"Unknowing is your compass, dear one.
The mysteriousness of seeking within is the Gift.
Lose yourself in these unknown territories of your Soul,
there shall you find galaxies upon galaxies of Guidance and Love.

This Vehicle, Thy Will

From the darkness of the curtains I emerge.
A simple light leads the way as if it were a golden path.
In front of me, an empty canvass full of potential.
All judgments behind me.
My legs are beneath me, listening.
Shaking with the care-filled rhythms that surround.
It is a voice other than my own that I hear.
Even as I open my mouth and taste each cavity within the walls of my face,
it is another voice that sings.
I listen to my heart, to the hearts all around.
Silent and still.
I am the instrument.
Use this vehicle, use me for Thy will.

Snippets of a Dream

Last night as I lay nearly sleeping,
I drifted into the most obscure galaxy.
It was a empty hole with excess noise;
sounds with growing horns and daggers,
monotonous and chaotic,
chattering in the mind.
I remember my reflection in the mirror.
I looked at my body unsatisfied and in judgment.
I snarled at myself.

Something Real to Say

it is contrast to be understood
to be felt by thousands
and then completely unheard
silenced by one unopened

many thoughts unspoken...
many things misread...
many more unsaid...

consider me guilty
for not having been upfront
for not having been more forthcoming
this much I was admitting

but you wanted me to use your words
not from my heart
but like a tool
play your game by your rules

instead you silenced a room full of people
who actually had something real to say

Dear Diary (November 1, 2008)

Dear Diary,

According to the astrologers a new moon is in motion, signifying, in conjunction with the distant planets, an exciting transformation for myself and all Cancerians globally. I haven't seen this new moon or noticed the many gifts she and her astral friends are supposedly arising. Of course, I haven't noticed much these days, other than hotel beds, tragic carpeting, and microwaves that have been radiating the shit out of my food.

Mostly I've noticed how easily I feel myself slipping into boredom. I observe myself listening with my ears, no longer with my heart, and the point of focus is inward and shrunken. In this moment, this fleeting moment, I'm the smallest version of myself. Some potential for shifting is here I felt it but moments ago, an instant away towards breaking free of these self-imposed chains.

There is that nagging place in me, in all of us I feel, that seeks to be victimized and anxious. It's not anyone's fault, it is simply our training; take the stress of life and amplify- make it huge, make it count, make it worst than someone else's, make sure everyone hears the tone in your voice, your cry for pity.

I shut my mouth, because I don't believe a word my mind is saying. I want it to be different. I will be different and I'll pack my bags incessantly for the next few weeks, look at the floral carpeting again and again, but I will stand centered in my silent. Until something other than garbage can come out of this mouth, I will not speak. I will be truthful and will remember this eternal existence. I will live from my heart and I will sing.

I will brave the journey for this soul, banishing the thoughts that do not serve, and abandoning myself into this moment... the Master of every moment.