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While laying under a white pine tree at a Sufi retreat in
Sarasota Florida last month, this poem wrote itself while
thinking of the connectedness of all parts of the tree. When
I went back into the retreat, Pir Vilayat used the tree as an
example of oneness. Sometimes we find that we are one step
ahead of ourselves. Those moments of synchronicity bring such
joy. BTW, if you ever get the chance to experience the energy
of the Sufi Master, Pir (teacher) Vilayat Inayat Khan, I highly
recommend it. He is the eldest son of Hazrat Inayat Khan who
introduced Sufism to the western world in 1910.
TREE OF LIFE
giver of sacred breath,
how beautiful you are
branching into perfection
on the spiral of diversity
roots align the directions of balance
moss hangs out on limbs of surrender
bark inhales the colors of gaia
needles point and wave at creation
nectar entices curious seekers
cones plant seeds in response to slight breezes
all represent the grand play of oneness
deeply aware the unity of purpose
ingesting the light of the sun and moon,
the tree of life blooms in the cradle of love
by Sharon Pacione
February 25, 2002
In reading an article regarding crop circles, the
words to this 1967 Moody Blues song were used.
The post was about the "sounds of the crop circles".
IN SEARCH OF THE LOST CHORD
This garden vibrates complete.
Some may get a sound so sweet.
Vibrations reach on up to become light
and then through gamma, out of sight.
Between the eyes and ears there lie
the sounds of color and light of a sigh
and to hear the sun, what a thing to believe,
but it's all around if we could but perceive.
To know ultra violet, infra-red and x-rays,
beauty to find in so many ways.
Two notes of the chord, that's our full scope
but to reach the chord is our life's hope
and to name the chord is important to some
so they give a word, and the word is Om.
from the album "In Search of the Lost Chord"
And, when you stop and think about it,
you won't belive it's true,
that all the love you've been giving,
has all been meant for you.
Moody Blues' Justin Hayward
from "Question" 1970
The following poem is dedicated to a wonderful teacher, Sufi Master,
Adnan Sarhan. I find his teachings regarding the breath, sound and
movement to be a gift for the personal growth of my soul. I AM
grateful that he found himself in Cleveland, Ohio these last two
weekends. I highly recommend experiencing his workshops
should you have the chance.
One of the most beautiful exercises I experienced during the
workshops was dancing with the veil. (Lots of symbology there)!
I'd like to say I danced my arse off, but most of it is still there. :-)
One of the best reminders was to reconnect with the importance
of Yoga in my life (which my daughter has been prompting me to
do for the last few weeks).
The following sites provide info on Adnan's calendar as well as the Sufi
way of BEING. While I'm at it, I must mention one of the most amazing
books I've ever read. It is a book of poems by the great sufi master Hafiz
entitled "The Gift", translations by Daniel Ladinsky (ISBN 0-14-019581-5).
I understand it is currently the best selling book of poetry in the world.
Hafiz lived about 100 years after Rumi. Two other favorite Hafiz books
are: "I Heard God Laughing" and "The Subject Tonight is Love".
http://www.sufifoundation.org/ (Adnan's Site)
http://www.naharisv.com/ (Additional Sufi Info & Silk Scarves)
Lastly, before sharing the poem, I'd like to say that since "Sufi" jumped
on my bones starting Feb. 23rd while on vacation in Florida, I have met
the most wonderful people and have had many synchronistic moments.
One of those people (Angel) opened a very well-received vegetarian
(vegan) restaurant in New York City several years ago. It is located
at 405 East 6th Street (between 1st and "A" avenues. It is called
"CARAVAN OF DREAMS". I plan to visit the next time I'm in NYC.
The website is:
Here's the short poem written in honor of Adnan Sarhan, vehicle for
God. He teaches all over the world and has a Sufi camp in New
Mexico where people come from all over the world during the summer
months (July 1 through September 15) for personal transformation.
LIFTING THE VEIL
vessel of holy breath
sing to me of the stars
and the sun and moon
that traverse the mind's eye
of my body and soul,
birthing the whirling universe within
muscles and organs and blood
crave ancient, timeless movements
while the mind invites atoms
to a feast of silence
dancing on the thread of eternity,
the veil of the spirit lifts
to soar unimaginable heights,
sailing the rainbow
on the breath of God
by Sharon Pacione
March 25, 2002
For those who enjoy metaphysical poetry, please visit the following site:
This poem was written during the war in Bosnia. Made me wonder about
other forms of life and where they go during the disruption of war. I used
birds as an example. Of course, we can see how this poem could apply
to many places experiencing the turmoil of war on any given day on
Planet Earth. The sound of war has become our "Mourning Song".
Let us all think about what the vibrations of war are doing to the
interior and exterior of our beautiful planet and ALL lifeforms. May we
all become the change we wish to see.
where do birds sing during war
do they follow displaced humans
driven by misplaced bombs
into earth-shattering chaos,
seeking not only food and shelter,
fresh air and water,
but one moment of safety,
one genuine moment of peace
empty nests left behind
in yards of empty houses
contain the vibrations of fear,
permeating breath's every molecule,
suffocating the last minutes of life
for those fleeing the agony of hell
others feel the terror of war
from other-side-of-the-world sanctuaries,
souls who amplify the screams
of those too shell-shocked to understand
that they and their loved ones
were bombed in the name of peace
who realize that
no safety on foot,
no safety in trucks,
no safety on trains,
no safety in nests
rains the confusion of truth,
all sides brainwashed in righteous solutions
trigger-fingers decide the fate
for those whose bodies
litter the countryside,
ripped from the arms of their mother
lay alongside shattered hopes and dreams,
blown to kingdom come
helpless feathered messengers
leave dismembered babies
and lifelong partners
in search of greener pastures,
where land mines and bullets and bombs
won't interrupt their mourning song
will these messengers of harmony
once again find peace on earth,
or will mankind enslave
all God's creatures
in his hell-hole of destruction
by Sharon Pacione
April 14, 1999
How many times will a man turn his head
and pretend that he just doesn't see?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind,
the answer is blowin' in the wind.
from the Bob Dylan song "Blowin' in the Wind"
And, the following is the wisdom of one of our ancestors. Listen-up
Teach your children
what we have taught our children -
that the earth is our mother.
Whatever befalls the earth
befalls the sons and daughters of the earth.
If men spit upon the ground,
they spit upon themselves.
This we know.
The earth does not belong to us,
we belong to the earth.
This we know.
All things are connected
like the blood which unites one family.
All things are connected.
Whatever befalls the earth
befalls the sons and daughters of the earth.
We did not weave the web of life;
we are merely a strand in it.
Whatever we do to the web,
we do to ourselves.
"Unless we change direction, we are likely to end up where we are
On the following site, I post other poetry I've written as well as poems
by some of my favorites, including Rumi and Hafiz among others. I
encourage others to post their favorite poems. Please check out the
home page at:
In the spirit of becoming the change we wish to see.
Peace and love to all,
This poem was written on a beautiful summer day in 1999 while driving
on the back roads of Ohio on the way to and from a Native American
Pow Wow. It is my contention that as we change our own vibration,
the vibration of the Planet changes. So, my thought is to find as many
moments as possible to perceive love and beauty and joy, even among
the turmoil we perceive each day. Our sanctuary is within each of us.
I AM the ebb and flow of creation
I AM geometry exploding perfection
I AM the lotus reaching for sunlight
I AM in love with the passion of being
I AM songbirds greeting the sunrise
I AM a child born of the moment
I AM dew annointing the morning
I AM the holy breath of freedom
I AM the shimmer of lush, green landscapes
I AM a river flowing upstream
I AM a willow dancing with shadows
I AM the open eyes of compassion
I AM the words to the song 'Imagine'
I AM a butterfly aware of the chrysalis
I AM a pink and orange and blue skyline
I AM corn silk stalking light breezes
I AM the outcome of thunder and lightening
I AM clouds bursting forth in the desert
I AM the gold at the end of the rainbow
I AM a meadow of Queen Anne's Lace
I AM the vibrancy and spectrum of color
I AM pipe dreams become authentic
I AM the smile behind indigo faces
I AM coyote rejoicing in laughter
I AM the music of Andrea Boccelli
I AM best friends with the rune of joy
I AM a hologram searching for mirrors
I AM Sophia, caretaker of wisdom
I AM the veiled mystery behind time and space
I AM the memory of homeostasis
I AM the granite guardian of silence
I AM a firefly enjoying the sunset
I AM the full moon courting the nighttime
I AM the wish of destiny's star
I AM imagination's inventor
I AM the essence of peace on Earth
I AM an ocean of hidden treasure
I AM the labyrinth's passport to secrets
I AM potential contained in the void
I AM the queen of all heart's desire
I AM a pure crystalline light shaft
I AM the line between genius and madness
I AM a sovereign, immortal being
I AM the gardener, planter of truth
I AM the alpha and the omega
I AM the key to the tree of life
I AM a circle becoming the spiral
I AM eternal, world without end
by Sharon Pacione
July 19, 1999
revised November 6, 2001
From the book: "The Essential Rumi", translations by Coleman Barks
with John Moyne
Spring Giddiness: Stand in the Wake of This Chattering and Grow Airy
Springtime - when ecstasy seems the natural way to be and any other
out of tune with the season of soul growth. Song, airy silence, a lively
conversation between plants. No urgency about what gets said or not
said. We feel part of some hilarious nub pulling up through the surface
into light or lying back in a wagon going who knows where. The weather
of Spring in Persia and Turkey and in the southeastern United States
is all one long extravagant absorption with ground and sky, the fragrances
and what unfolds from within. In lucky places such as these, Spring is
not so much a metaphor for a state of attunement as it is that attunement.
Or say it this way: for a mystic, the inner world is a weather that contains
the universe and uses it as symbolic language.
Again, the violet bows to the lily.
Again, the rose is tearing off her gown!
The green ones have come from the other world,
tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.
Again, near the top of the mountain
the anemone's sweet features appear.
The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine,
"Peace be with you." "And peace to you, lad!
Come walk with me in this meadow."
Again, there are sufis everywhere!
The bud is shy, but the wind removes
her veil suddenly, "My friend!"
The Friend is here like water in the stream,
like a lotus on the water.
The narcissus winks at the wisteria,
"Whenever you say."
And the clove to the willow, "You are the one
I hope for." The willow replies, "Consider
these chambers of mine yours. Welcome!"
The apple, "Orange, why the frown?"
"So that those who mean harm
will not see my beauty."
The ringdove comes asking, "Where,
where is the Friend?"
With one note the nightingale
indicates the rose.
Again, the season of Spring has come
and a spring-source rises under everything,
a moon sliding from the shadows.
Many things must be left unsaid, because it's late,
but whatever conversation we haven't had
tonight, we'll have tomorrow.
Here's one additional Rumi poem to bring understanding to the greatest
addiction of all, conformity.
Little by little, wean yourself.
This is the gist of what I have to say:
From an embryo, whose nourishment comes in the blood,
move to an infant drinking milk,
to a child on solid food,
to a searcher after wisdom,
to a hunter of more invisible game.
Think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.
You might say "The world outside is vast and intricate.
There are wheatfields and mountain passes,
and orchards in bloom.
At night there are millions of galaxies, and in sunlight
the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding."
You ask the embryo why he or she, stays cooped up
in the dark with eyes closed.
Listen to the answer.
"There is no 'other world.'
I only know what I've experienced.
You must be hallucinating."
Other metaphysical poetry may be found at my Yahoo poetry group:
Peace and love and Happy Spring to All.
I GAZE UPON golden fields of grain
They languish beneath the lonely loving moon
To remind me of my distant homeland scene
I recall the rectitude of former times
Coming from the crops,I knelt in the sanctuary's silence
Soon came the band of chanting priests
Who swayed and shook the sweetened food
Into swirling flame of the sacred hearth
That blessed burning blaze that crowned
An altar's white ascending mound
I had tended when still a beardless boy.
Later still,memory of lingering in shade
To love and look after the pale cows
And honour the Celestial Herdsman
And the matchless Maid.
Now I perceive the place of gathering
A beautiful barn that is my retreat
To the splendour of the past
While in stables stand the sacred steeeds
Who bear me out into the wider world
A mounted man seeking a maiden.
The God's glorious house of gold
In all its grandeur is gone
Replaced with senseless stones
As I lie in their pointless , pitiless shadows
A frozen larva weaves its tiny winter screen
Which was the greatest secret of the goddess
From sunset to the scheme of silvery stars
I wander the way of the wounded earth
And dashed to devildom
Is my radiant and renowned lorica of God's lore
I have as did the holiest flames
Endured the word wonderful reduced to nothing
Burned to breathlessness a baleful body
Carried mercilessly across the kalpas
Mistaken throughout millennia , I would see
One with winded robes fair as gold
Whose crown of hair is set with jewels
And hallowed with flowers of Joy.
JASON REDVERS LATHAM 43 years of age from GREAT BRITAIN
One of my favorite poets is Hafiz, a Sufi poet who lived approximately
100 years after Rumi. The following poems are from the book "I Heard
God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz" translated by Daniel Ladinsky.
I have included four short poems, one each for the spiritual, physical,
mental and emotional bodies (not necessarily in that order). They were
chosen at random.
"Hafiz sometimes speaks about himself in his poems, often in an
apparently offhand and bemused way. At first he is puzzled by
life. 'What kind of work can I do in this world?' he asks. But the more
deeply he sees, the more astonished he is to find his Beloved every-
where. He discovers that the essence of life is the expression of
beauty - it is Poetry. He arrives at a stage in Love's Journey where
everyone becomes a Poet!
"Start seeing everything as God,
But keep it a secret."
I TOOK IT AS A SIGN
Someone sent a band to my house,
and it started playing
at five in the morning.
I took this as a sign
God wanted me to sing!
Then the moon joined in
and a few of the tenor-voiced stars,
and the earth offered its lovely belly
as a drum.
Before I knew it,
all human beings could be happy
if they just had a few music lessons
from a Sweet Old Maestro
The moon is most happy
when it is full.
And the sun always looks
like a perfectly minted gold coin
that was just polished
and placed in flight
by God's playful kiss.
And so many varieties of fruit
hang plump and round
from branches that seem like a Sculptor's hands.
I see the beautiful curve of a pregnant belly
shaped by a soul within,
and the Earth itself,
and the planets and the Spheres -
I have gotten the hint:
here is something about circles
the Beloved likes.
Within the Circle of a Perfect One
there is an Infinite Community
We should make all spiritual talk
God is trying to sell you something,
but you don't want to buy.
That is what your suffering is:
your fantastic haggling,
your manic screaming over the price!
CAST ALL YOUR VOTES FOR DANCING
I know the voice of depression
still calls to you.
I know those habits that can ruin your life
still send their invitations.
But you are with the Friend now
and look so much stronger.
You can stay that way
and even bloom!
Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
from your prayers and work and music
and from your companions' beautiful laughter.
Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
from the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved
and, my dear,
from the most insignificant movements
of your own holy body.
Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins
that may buy you just a moment of pleasure,
then drag you for days
like a broken man
behind a farting camel.
You are with the Friend now.
Learn what actions of yours delight Him,
what actions of yours bring freedom
Whenever you say God's name, dear pilgrim,
my ears wish my head was missing
so they could finally kiss each other
and applaud all your nourishing wisdom!
O keep squeezing drops of the Sun
from your prayers and work and music
and from your companions' beautiful laughter
and from the most insignificant movements
of your own holy body.
Now, sweet one,
Cast all your votes for Dancing!
The above poems are from the book "I Heard God Laughing: Renderings
of Hafiz" translated by Daniel Ladinsky
They are posted to Sharon Pacione's Yahoo poetry site at:
Following is a list of suggested reading for those interested in the
works of such mystics as poets Rumi, Hafiz and Omar Khayyam
as well as books regarding Sufi teachings in general. These are books
I personally own that would like to be shared. I'm sure this list is only
scratching the surface.
The words are filled with such love for God that it is impossible not to
wring out the heart almost constantly to make more room for this feast
of the soul. Besides, the poetry in this collection is great fun to read.
This list is being shared because I was reminded in February when Sufi
teachings came into my life in a big way (and again in March as they
continued) of the famous saying "when the student is ready, the teacher
will appear." What I love most about the Sufi teachings is that they are
about self-empowerment. I AM reminded of a favorite saying: GURU
spelled out loud is "gee, you are you!" I have added some interesting
information at the end of the post about mysticism along with a
couple of quotes to end the post.
I AM also including some general Sufi books by Hazrat Inayat Khan,
the Indian Sufi Master who introduced Sufism to the Western World in
1910 as well as books by his eldest son Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan.
Lastly I AM happy to include two books by a recent teacher of mine,
Sufi Master Adnan Sarhan. Following is a sentence or two on the
above mentioned poets/writers.
~~~Rumi was born September 30, 1207 on the far eastern edge of the
Persian Empire in Balkh in modern-day Afghanistan. He died on
December 17, 1273.
~~~Omar Khayyam, poet, astronomer, and mathematician was born in
Nishapur, Persia, in the latter part of the 11th century. He died in 1123
~~~Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz was a Persian poet from Shiraz
who lived from 1320-1389. The poems of Hafiz are mostly short love
songs called ghazals, each one about the length of a sonnet. Hafiz
was a favorite poet of Goethe, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Nietzsche
among many others. The name Hafiz means "memorizer."
~~~Shaikh Abu-Saeed Abil-Kheir was a lesser known Persian Sufi
poet and saint who lived in the tenth century, approximately 200
years before Rumi.
~~~Hazrat Inayat Khan brought Sufism from India to the western world
in 1910. He lived from (1882-1927). Music, according to Sufi teaching,
is really a small expression of the overwhelming and perfect harmony
of the whole universe, and that is the secret of its amazing power to
move us. Hazrat Inayat Khan was, himself, an accomplished musician.
~~~Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan, (86) is a world-renowned teacher of
meditation. He is the spiritual head of the sufi Order International,
founded by his father, Pir-o-Murshid (Hazrat) Inayat Khan. Pir
Vilayat is the founder of the Omega Institute in New York.
~~~Pir Zia Inayat Khan is the son and successor of Pir Vilayat
Inayat Khan. He serves as President of the Sufi Order International.
He resides and teaches at the Abode of the Message in upstate
New York. The website for both Pir Vilayat and Pir Zia is:
~~~Sufi Master Adnan Sarhan is director of the Sufi foundation of America
and a member of five Sufi orders: Qadri, Naqshibandi, Rafai, Mevlevi, and
Malamati. Adnan leads participants in his workshops (and at his summer
camp July 1 - Sept. 15) in a wide range of timeless techniques. Based
on various traditions of scholarship, meditative sciences, physical
exercise, mystical dance and music, the work signals a connection to
the past which stretches back twelve hundred years. Exercises,
meditation, drumming, movement, dancing and whirling are used to
heighten concentration and produce bodily changes, including slower
heart rates, lower blood pressure, and shifts in perception opposite to
those caused by stress. R. J. Reynolds, after experiencing Adnan's
teachings in the early 90's, produced the funding for Adnan's summer
camp in the mountains outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico.
His website is: http://www.sufifoundation.org/
The poems and stories from these mystical writers were meant to be
heard with music. Music was part of the practice of the dervishes. The
poems can be sung as well as read. And music is often a metaphor for
what connects human beings in the ocean of consciousness. Music is,
as Rumi says, a form of zikr, the remembering that "there is no reality
but God. There is only God." In Arabic, "La'illaha il' Allahu."
Also, in ancient poems, the following words were often used as names
for God: Sweet Uncle, the Generous Merchant, the Problem Giver, the
Problem Solver, the Friend, the Beloved, the Infinite. The words Ocean,
Sky, Sun, Moon, and Love, among others, when capitalized in poems,
can some-times be synonyms for God. To these ancient poets, God is
Someone we can meet, enter, and eternally explore. Life itself is a love
affair with the Creator. So, with that said, here is the recommended
reading, in no particular order.
"The Essential Rumi", translations by Coleman Barks with John Moyne
"Rumi Wisdom", Daily Teachings from the Great Sufi Master, by
"The Illuminated Prayer", The Five-Times Prayer of the Sufis as Revealed
by Jellaludin Rumi and Bawa Muhaiyaddeen, by Coleman Barks and
"Delicious Laughter", Rambunctious Teaching Stories from the Mathnawi,
Versions by Coleman Barks
"Like This", Versions by Coleman Barks
"This Longing", Poetry, Teaching Stories, and Letters of Rumi, Versions
by Coleman barks and John Moyne
"Say I Am You", Poetry Interspersed with Stories of Rumi and Shams,
translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barks
"Rumi: The Glance", Songs of Soul-Meeting, translated by Coleman Barks
"Birdsong", translated by Coleman Barks
"Unseen Rain", Quatrains of Rumi by Coleman Barks and John Moyne
"In Praise of Rumi", Introduction by Regina Sara Ryan
"One Handed Basket Weaving", Poems on the Theme of Work, Versions
by Coleman Barks
"Rumi: Whispers of the Beloved", translated by Maryam Mafi and
Azima Melita Kolin
HAFIZ (Sometimes spelled as the more contemporary "Hafez")
"The Gift", Poems by Hafiz The Great Sufi Master, translations by
"I Heard God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz" by Daniel Ladinsky
"The Subject Tonight is Love" by Daniel Ladinsky
"The Spiritual Wisdom of Hafez", Teachings of the Philosopher of Love,
by Haleh Pourafzal and Roger Montgomery
"Drunk on the Wine of the Beloved", translations by Thomas Rain Crowe
"In Wineseller's Street", Renderings of Hafez, by Thomas Rain Crowe
"The Hafez Poems of Gertrude Bell", by Gertrude Bell
"The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam", Explained by Paramhansa Yogananda,
Edited by J. Donald Walters
SHAIKH ABU SAEED ABIL-KHEIR
"Nobody, Son of Nobody", Poems of Shaikh Abu Saeed Abil-Kheir,
Renditions by Vraje Abramian
BOOKS BY SUFI TEACHERS:
HAZRAT INAYAT KHAN
"The Mysticism of Sound and Music", The Sufi Teaching of Hazrat
Inayat Khan, by Hazrat Inayat Khan
"The Music of Life" by Hazrat Inayat Khan
"The Complete Sayings of Hazrat Inayat Khan"
PIR VILAYAT INAYAT KHAN
"That Which Transpires Behind That Which Appears", The Experience
of Sufism" by Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan
"Awakening", A Sufi Experience, by Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan
PIR ZIA INAYAT KHAN
"A Pearl in Wine: Essays in the Life, Music and Sufism of Hazrat
Inayat Khan", edited by Pir Zia Inayat Khan
"Dance Your Way to Spirit", Adnan's Students Relate Their Remarkable
and Joyful Experiences on the Way to the Spirit", by Adnan Sarhan
"The Enchanted Oasis of the Ringed Dove" and Other Sufi Teaching
Stories, by Adnan Sarhan
"The Final Abode of Consumer Society" by Adnan Sarhan
"The Drunken Universe", An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry,
translation and commentary by Peter Lamborn Wilson and Nasrollah
"A Gift of Love", Deepak & Friends Present Music Inspired by the
Love Poems of Rumi, by Deepak Chopra
"Rumi: Readings from the Soul", by Qahira Qalbi
In closing, the following is from the Preface of the above mentioned
book "Nobody, Son of Nobody" giving a little background on the
Persian mystics or the belief mystics anywhere for that matter.
"To those who believe in their teachings, "mystics" are living proof of
that Eternal Presence that the human mind tries to freeze into time
and space by giving it names such as Allah, God, Ram or Sat Purush.
Throughout history, mystics have advocated personal experience of the
Divine. They have maintained that humans have the potential to
experience that oneness with the Infinite which lies beyond the realm
of finite intellect. Such experience transforms the individual from one
confined to the limitations and fears of self-centeredness, to a being
who recognizes the presence of an Infinite Permanence somewhere in
his or her consciousness.
One who is established in this recognition of Infinite Permanence is
"free," in the sense that personal experience, not books or hearsay,
make it possible for him or her to deal with the two issues forever
staring the human intellect in the face: the issue of death, and the
question of how to live life to the fullest. Personal experience with
"The Infinite Permanence" reduces the issue of death to a mere
change of venue, while providing a taste of some state of "Being"
(or Non-being, perhaps) that prompts one to struggle for more of
what makes life itself worth living! A Divine "drunkenness" of sorts
now gives the individual the genuine ability to view life as a grand
affair, too precious to be spoiled by such trivia as the amount of
one's possessions, or the length of a lifetime, which is now
appreciated as a temporary assignment within this Infinite
"For our mind to be convinced of the possibility of this grand affair,
however, it needs the teaching and guidance of one who has
experienced Infinite Permanence, and is a complete product of this
experimentation. However, these teachers - the bringers of the
message of genuine freedom - are not necessarily liked by everyone.
Many of their number have been subjected to persecution, often
instigate by those who found mystics' teachings a threat. This story
has repeated itself several times in written history... Jesus in
Jerusalem, Mansour Hallaj in Baghdad, Sarmad in Delhi were all
persecuted by those who feared their message.
"In Persia, after Islam was established, the term "Sufi" was applied
to those remarkable individuals who demonstrated this message of
genuine freedom and who acted as spiritual teachers."
Lastly, I will leave you with three short quotes (one for body, mind,
and spirit) from the book "The Complete Sayings of Hazrat Inayat
"Man seeks freedom but pursues captivity". ~~~Hazrat Inayat Khan
"Time and space are the hands and feet of the mystic; through space
he climbs, and through time he accomplishes." ~~~Hazrat Inayat Khan
"The one who seeks the spiritual path is sought after by the spirit."
~~~Hazrat Inayat Khan
May the path you walk bring you joy.
Peace and love to all,
For some mysterious reason
in rhyme and rhythmic season
we sing our colors ripe,
pulled and tuned
from chords with hues
shared among us all
the consequence to this
is that our fruit does fall.
Individuals born to seek and branch
travel along an infinite spectrum
tiny cycles build in and
among the big one
that is this, our finite human life.
These cycles hold our personal array
the fruits we create
from birth and decay.
We resonate to uncover
vibration's wide endless variety,
choices provided abundantly
in life's gigantic banquet
that's provided for us all.
Essentially, it's up to us
to explore and taste of it
as we do
we swallow up
our selected choices
and take them deep down
inside this vessel clothed in human skin.
We discover on this journey,
a place between the ranges
where some of us decide
to stay for prolonged play.
Beware, for here is where
it is easy to loose track.
the tastes that lay between
the rivers of life's sweet wings
spread wide and full of
sticky yummy juices,
dripping oozy goo,
smothered in laughter's song,
and out-on-over to the other side
of cold steel, fragility,
sour, pithy-picky things,
scratchy, withered, dried and dusty
with tails that rattle
forked tongues hiss between
a set of poison teeth.
At each turn we find
the landscape changes
to what we vibrate, we anticipate.
Spreading branches form
like rivers flowing over sand.
Out of each and every choice
we eat of life's big feast
we do design,
the architectural pathways
for our own unique amazing fruits.
We eat each choice in heavy meals
and nibble some on snacks,
each choice we take
has a consequence,
the fruit of which
grows ripe upon our tree.
This growth depends
the nutrients and amount of light
we add with our unique song
that we provide to accompany
this ever-changing incubation.
On and on our fruits do grow
to the ripest point allowed
and then there comes a day
when the fruit
of choice and consequence
It served its cycle
a learned lesson, ripened
hanging off our tree,
without much warning,
perhaps on the wind of a butterfly
or in a torrential pouring rain,
our fruits give up their hold
to mother earth
where they will end
this existence, in decay.
Sometimes from way up there,
a splat and thud, an ouch.
We may yell, "Yee, God, this sucks,
look at this damn horrible mess!
I am up to my chin by now."
We cry and carry on
the best that we know how.
Other times floating silently
on a silver whisper
our fruits land most gracefully
upon a soft moss pillow.
We may voice a different kind of cry and carry on
the best that we know how.
If you feel it's an ouch, you'll stick with the old plan
and bear the same old fruit, again.
If you feel it's an ooh or an ahh, you're off to the new
to try out another variety of fruited grand display.
Yet, interesting to me
is how both ends of this cycle
strip us of our fruits.
They land us right back
where we started from
naked clinging roots.
We cyclically stand again
in front of choice's banquet.
Still through it all
something plain and simple
There we are
the unique tree
we are always meant to be.
This smaller bearing cycle,
inside the bigger one,
over and over
round and round
under and above
to discover life's pattern
is right there for us to see.
Each fruit contains a gift for us
it offers with decay
the gift is the bones of experience
Will we, the tree,
or choose to look away?
Regardless of their purpose
I think we can ascertain
each set of bones
within this human skin.
Perhaps without examination now,
later to be revealed
as the same old fruit, again?
Is this fossil of experience
left over from our fruit
to provide information
to what's stored in our human suit?
Is this the switch that tends
to make the ouch a sickly-grouch,
and the ooh a most vital, joyful-pleasant-friend?
Life is not the struggle
we make it to be
instead, our vibrations
can join in most playfully.
It's up to us to see our way
to pick and choose
we will continue to produce
and which of those
no longer serve us day-to-day
When I look back I see
my own fruit dropping
used to petrify me...
I'd use all my strength and might
to hold on to all of it so tight.
I'd pray, "you are so beautiful
please don't fall, just yet".
Man-o-man, I'd worked so hard
for all I got!
All this toil and trouble
to ripen the entire crop,
would go for naught?
I'd imagined that
these ornaments I made
had described me perfectly, to a T.
Not yet understanding
covered up me, the tree.
Loaded down, overworked
with heavy ripened fruit
the storm would arrive
to shake and rip it all away...
Robbed again, I thought
again, I closed my eyes
over and over
round and round,
under and above,
to avoid looking at
what I thought was
beauty gone by
in the ugly bones of decay.
When I finally opened them
I found to my surprise
that I had simply dreaded
all that life itself is made of...
birth, rebuilding and decay.
Right now, again I've got a crop
I know someday ahead I'll drop.
Yet, I'm understanding better
my fruit is not the tree.
That tree, I now recognize, is me.
So giving light and nutrients
is no longer a boring chore
all that changed to play
when beauty saw herself
in fruit's decay.
Now that I begin to get it
to figure out the way,
I find it grand design,
just as it is supposed to be
to join my tree and dream
with love's celebration,
which is essentially
which begins and ends
as fruits release
from the tree.
I see for me,
that's how life's meant to be.
I can't say that I'm an expert
and wonder if I'll ever be?
But it seems to me
that together with this lesson
is where I need to be.
Hey look at that,
I think a fruit dropped.
So now my poetic path's
meandering has arrived
back to where I started from
and this fruit's bones
brought its surprise to me,
for now I see
I have changed my view...
Forever is a possibility
for two who know
they are trees.
Being Jane Goodall
There is a piece of me
that loves to hold
binoculars to my eyes
as I look out to the wild world.
I keep them handy
right next to my bed,
with my chapstick.
Today I study
the illusive three year old
woodchuck who lives
near my garden
in a tunnel
under the cool stone fence.
I discovered she, is a he
and he won't taste the
but he vacuums up
as if they would
light him up
when he goes back underground
with their sunshine.
I can trace his steps
in the field. He has
been where purple
is the only color
left snuggled in the green.
The Song in You and Me
There's a song we all arrive with
that beats in harmony with our heart.
If you care to listen, you will hear the music play
and your rhythm will remind you
why you are alive today.
Some say we carry our common human song
deep within the spirals of our DNA.
It is the song that recognizes
love as the universal glue.
It's not just all the fuzzy stuff either,
it's also love of slimy worms.
This song of ours resonates with light of
affirmation, harmony, peace, love, and safety.
We're all so different that is true,
yet we share a common tune for
belonging, health, respect, and freedom,
beauty, pure water, clean air, delicious food, nurturance,
ease and flow, prosperity, kindness and compassion,
justice, honor, understanding and reverence for life.
This common song is one that we are born to play
it creates our balance day to day,
sets us on the center point
with the Earth, with each other
and with ourselves.
Our gift of song is HUGE you see, it never goes away
it's always there inside to choose
to live and love unconditionally.
The next time you get the chance,
look into a child's eyes,
see if you can recognize the tune that's playing there, inside.
For if you hear the music's notes,
it will strike a common chord
and your heart's song will start to play along.
Your feet may tap and this exchange
will snap you back to life's joyful dance.
From there it's all left up to you, my friend,
to keep your station tuned-in
to what is playing inside you.
Sure it may be hard at first, to keep this dial tuned
so remember to give yourself a break,
as the pulse inside
balances and reveals to you
the love that you are made of
and what it means to share.
I have told you all the pudding fluff-stuff of life,
so now you wonder, where are all the tears, the spit and blood,
the stones and bombs stored, My Dear?
Glad you asked,
"Is there a common song for war,
hatred, bigotry, murder, rape, pillage and plunder?"
Personally, I don't think there is a song like this,
not one that is born inside our hearts.
Don't get me wrong, I know this tune is real;
we can't deny what our eyes see and our ears do feel,
humanity's long scream of anguish,
squished bones and ashes, blood and guts
echoes throughout historical halls.
This refrain is certainly really real,
ringing all around us, in retaliation's recall.
Yet I believe, this song of hate for one another
is disregard imposed outside our human forms.
Composed long ago as a power trip loop
to control and possess what we hold dear.
Held in place with warnings of "worse than this"
and threats of shame and punishment.
Fear is the ball and chain that locks
our reality dials to the mean and nasty outside "sing-a-long".
So we listen to discordant slice and dice,
and greasy frying pans, chalk-board fingernails,
shivers and wide-tear-filled eyes,
hungry bellies, babies dying, dust flying
slaps in faces and putdowns of all size,
choking lumps that rise and slide back down our throats.
The song is so insidious, a tight knot in the rope
its notes are written on the lines with promises of glory,
posturing on mountains of possessions,
stabbing pains and people's backs,
and front's slaughters are in there too,
relinquishing the rights of others
for promised riches, more than one's fair share.
This cruel tone is really dense,
it's not easy to see through to the other side.
It covers, dams, distracts and generally messes up
the flowing light which sings inside.
It's acts rise in reaction form,
the kind that perpetuate the validity of power-over others,
spread like wildfire on the billboards and TV.
Hate wrapped in a pack of lies
made to seem so real, it's now... supposedly
a completely normal part of life....
as if war and dominating others, was just what's meant to be.
We are frightened, tricked and tempted
and so we yield our bow to those
whose lips and actions tell us they are kings,
more important and more worthy than
who they name the lame brain, small fry, other thing.
This is how we take our energy and starve our inner song
giving it away to the outside power that buys and sells
the love that life is all about
and we are left empty and forever craving.
With each bow and sucked in lump,
we are fully responsible
we are standing there allowing
the crushing of each other to propagate.
Yet we know what is singing/ringing true in all of us,
why else would Schindler's List receive
our quivered lips, the river of tears and Oscar's rave reviews?
We leave our movie seats, kleenex still in hand
and with a sigh, we swallow the "why?",
return to pressure, push and shove, incinerate,
the tear track's remains
are covered up by our day to day.
So we dance and share this history with our children in our books.
Yet we don't provide the space to keep them free to ask us, "Why?"
"Why Mom and Dad, are you such cowards?", they would say
"What is the purpose of this game anyway, that we all play?"
So instead of stopping to take a look,
and falling into our selves,
like the Phoenix in the fire,
we continue to think the pain is less if we swallow the lump
and on and on we dance in this hurting-bleeding song.
This maddening circle is how we all continue to think
the others are nuts who rally for peace and love.
We believe the lie that "it's only normal, human way"
to play the game dealing cards off the bottom of the deck
pointing fingers finding blame, with heavy price to pay.
This negating-life song is sung
all in the name and claim of protection,
as the bloody-bleeding outside song
marches itself on down the hall,
whose walls sole purpose is to maintain
the circle of communal ignorance.
Come in closer for a look,
it is not all as hopeless as it seems
the walls give way,
when we slow the mad organ grinder down.
Release yourself from cruelty's gravity,
and float up to a seat in a tree,
from the vantage point of looking in
you can examine hate more carefully.
Here is where the picture gets clear
as to the source of hate's energetic fuel.
You'll find something really strange
that will shake most people up
if they care to take the time to look
the lump will rise to their surprise
it gets too big now to swallow back down
So now it's out the lump tells us,
that we are in fact
both the chorus and conductor of this creepy crushing song.
The lump tells us,
our own worst crime seems to be:
we continue singing blind to this discovery.
As we do, we hide both our own
and each other's, and even the Earth's innate ability
to become One Whole Family.
Yet stepping of the hamster wheel
and spitting out these lumps,
lets us see that music's meaning
has a deeper sweeter purpose than
simply pointing fingers at the whole.
The view yields us the greatest hope we could imagine,
as our common human song floods our hearts
and fills our smiles, "YES", ahhha...
We know our potential is inside... We realize,
we are individuals dancing in One Collective Whole
balanced in vibration with soul-filled living and considering of all.
chewing my lip
carrying wrinkled brow
I drop her at school
she looks back
for an instant we lock hearts
silent in our knowing
torture’s fangs await her spirit
in the center of those red bricks
hearts and souls squished
taunting one another
poking holes in each other
as they scramble to fill
the one and only position
of best in show
Here is a beautiful manifesto entitled "We Are the New Civilization"
by Flemming Funch. I have included the url in case you wish to
print the manifesto from the site. I have also included the url for
his "World Transformation" site. Thanks to Robert to sharing this
Click here: We are the New Civilization
Peace and love,
WE ARE THE NEW CIVILIZATION
We are here.
We are waking up now, out of the past, to dream a bigger dream.
We are friends and equals, we are diverse and unique, and we're
united for something bigger than our differences.
We believe in freedom and cooperation, abundance and harmony.
We are a culture emerging, a renaissance of the essence of
We find our own guidance, and we discern our own truth.
We go in many directions, and yet we refuse to disperse.
We have many names, we speak many languages.
We are local, we are global.
We are all religions of the world, we're everywhere in the air.
We are universe being aware of itself, we are the wave of evolution.
We are in every child's eyes, we face the unknown with wonder and
We are messengers from the future, living in the present.
We come from silence, and we speak our truth.
We cannot be quieted, because our voice is within everyone.
We have no enemies, no boundaries can hold us.
We respect the cycles and expressions of nature, because we
We don't play to win, we play to live and learn.
We act out of inspiration, love and integrity.
We explore, we discover, we feel and we laugh.
We are building a world that works for everyone.
We endeavor to live our lives to their fullest potential.
We are independent, self-sufficient and responsible.
We relate to each other in peace, with compassion and respect,
we unite in community.
We celebrate the wholeness within and around us all.
We dance to the rhythm of creation.
We weave the threads of the new times.
We are the new civilization.
by Flemming Funch
A ROOT IN EACH ACT AND CREATURE
The sun's eyes are painting fields again.
Its lashes with expert strokes
are sweeping across the land.
A great palette of light has embraced
Hafiz, if just a little clay and water
mixed in His bowl
can yield such exquisite scents, sights,
music - and whirling forms -
what unspeakable wonders must await with
the commencement of unfolding
of the infinite number of petals
that are the
What excitement will renew your body
when we all begin to see
that His heart resides in
God has a root in each act and creature
that He draws His mysterious
Divine life from.
His eyes are painting fields again.
The Beloved with His own hands is tending,
raising like a precious child,
Hafiz, from the book "The Gift", poems by Hafiz
TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY
Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
break all our teacup talk of God.
If you had the courage and
could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
by your hair,
ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
that bring you no joy.
Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
and wants to rip to shreds
all your erroneous notions of truth
that make you fight within yourself, dear one,
and with others,
causing the world to weep
on too many fine days.
God wants to manhandle us,
lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
and practice His dropkick.
The Beloved sometimes wants
to do us a great favor:
hold us upside down
and shake all the nonsense out.
but when we hear
He is in such a "playful drunken mood"
most everyone I know
quickly packs their bags and hightails it
out of town.
Hafiz from the book "The Gift: Poems by Hafiz" The Great Sufi Master
(1320-1389), translations by Daniel Ladinsky
For spiritual poetry, visit Sharon Pacione's Poetry Group at:
I enjoy your postings. I tried to use 'For spiritual
poetry, visit Sharon Pacione's Poetry Group
Stone' and got the message 'There is no group called
VoicesOfThePhilosopher's Stone'.I know what the
problem is but some might not. It needs to read
--- wdestiny44@... wrote:
> TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY
> Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
> break all our teacup talk of God.
> If you had the courage and
> could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
> He would just drag you around the room
> by your hair,
> ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
> that bring you no joy.
> Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
> and wants to rip to shreds
> all your erroneous notions of truth
> that make you fight within yourself, dear one,
> and with others,
> causing the world to weep
> on too many fine days.
> God wants to manhandle us,
> lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
> and practice His dropkick.
> The Beloved sometimes wants
> to do us a great favor:
> hold us upside down
> and shake all the nonsense out.
> but when we hear
> He is in such a "playful drunken mood"
> most everyone I know
> quickly packs their bags and hightails it
> out of town.
> Hafiz from the book "The Gift: Poems by Hafiz" The
> Great Sufi Master
> (1320-1389), translations by Daniel Ladinsky
> For spiritual poetry, visit Sharon Pacione's Poetry
> Group at:
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! - Official partner of 2002 FIFA World Cup
That pesky apostrophe!!! Thanks for bringing it to my
attention. And, I'm glad you enjoy the occasional post.
Please feel free to post your favorite poems too.
Peace and love,
--- In VoicesOfThePhilosophersStone@y..., Don McCormack
> I enjoy your postings. I tried to use 'For spiritual
> poetry, visit Sharon Pacione's Poetry Group
> Stone' and got the message 'There is no group called
> VoicesOfThePhilosopher's Stone'.I know what the
> problem is but some might not. It needs to read
> --- wdestiny44@a... wrote:
> > TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY
> > Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
> > break all our teacup talk of God.
> > If you had the courage and
> > could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
> > He would just drag you around the room
> > by your hair,
> > ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
> > that bring you no joy.
> > Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
> > and wants to rip to shreds
> > all your erroneous notions of truth
> > that make you fight within yourself, dear one,
> > and with others,
> > causing the world to weep
> > on too many fine days.
> > God wants to manhandle us,
> > lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
> > and practice His dropkick.
> > The Beloved sometimes wants
> > to do us a great favor:
> > hold us upside down
> > and shake all the nonsense out.
> > but when we hear
> > He is in such a "playful drunken mood"
> > most everyone I know
> > quickly packs their bags and hightails it
> > out of town.
> > Hafiz from the book "The Gift: Poems by Hafiz" The
> > Great Sufi Master
> > (1320-1389), translations by Daniel Ladinsky
> > For spiritual poetry, visit Sharon Pacione's Poetry
> > Group at:
> > Stone
> Do You Yahoo!?
> Yahoo! - Official partner of 2002 FIFA World Cup
After nine year's study,
mind's completely free,
words come forth completely unbound.
By what is the body supported;
upon what do the feet walk?
Blown away, east and west
as a dry leaf torn from a tree;
is the wind riding on me
or am I riding the wind?
|Good Morning Everyone:
Found myself singing the first two lines of the poem "Trees" by Joyce
Kilmer while doing dishes this morning. Of course, I didn't know the
poem was actually entitled "Trees" or the author's name until I did a
Yahoo search. I haven't thought of this in probably 35 years. Anyway,
it is soooo beautiful that it wants to be shared.
Perhaps we all can say a special prayer for the trees who bring so
much beauty and are connected to our breath of life. They help cool
the planet, give shade and housing, keep soil from eroding and provide
medicine and food for healing. There are many trees who are thirsty
because of a lack of rain in many areas. Let us also remember the
plight of the rain forests as man learns to walk in a conscious way
regarding these "standing tall people." I think the trees that I AM
surrounded with in my own wooded yard were speaking this morning.
Enjoy this short, simple, yet beautiful poem.
I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
a tree that looks at God all day,
and lifts her leafy arms to pray;
a tree that may in summer wear
a nest of robbins in her hair;
upon whose bosom snow has lain;
who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but only God can make a tree.
by (Alfred) Joyce Kilmer
killed in WWI at the age of 32
Note: The word "prest" in the third line of the poem is the author's spelling.
PARODY OF THE ABOVE POEM
I think that I shall never see
a billboard lovely as a tree.
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all.
by Ogden Nash
Posted to the poetry group Voices of the Philosophers Stone at:
Peace and love to all,
SOUND OF SEASHELLS
The darkness of night is coming along fast, and
the shadows of love close in the body and the mind.
Open the window to the west, and disappear into the air
Near your breastbone there is an open flower.
Drink the honey that is all around that flower.
Waves are coming in:
there is so much magnificence near the ocean!
Listen: Sound of big seashells! Sound of bells!
Kabir says: Friend, listen, this is what I have to say:
The Guest I love is inside me!
by Kabir, from the book "The Soul Is Here For Its Own Joy: Sacred
Poems from Many Cultures, edited by Robert Bly
IT'S SO EASY TO GIVE IN
I have been thinking about the man who gives in.
Have you heard about him? In this story
A twenty-eight foot pine meets a small wind
And the pine bends all the way over to the ground.
"I was persuaded," the pine says. "It was convincing."
A mouse visits a cat, and the cat agrees
To drown all her children. "What could I do?"
The cat said. "The mouse needed that."
It's strange. I've heard that some people conspire
In their own ruin. A fool says, "You don't
Deserve to live." The man says, "Ill string this rope
Over than branch, maybe you can find a box."
The Great One with her necklace of skulls says,
"I need twenty thousand corpses." Tell you what,"
The General says, "we have an extra battalion
Over there on the hill. We don't need all these men."
by Robert Bly
from the book "Morning Poems" by Robert Bly
A CONVERSATION WITH A MOUSE
One day a mouse called to me from his curly nest:
"How do you sleep? I love curliness."
"Well, I like to be stretched out. I like my bones to be
All lined up. I like to see my toes way off over there."
"I suppose that's one way," the mouse said, "but I
don't like it..
The planets don't act that way, nor the Milky Way."
What could I say? You know you're near the end
Of the century when a sleepy mouse brings in the
by Robert Bly
from the book "Morning Poems"
I spent several days at Hopiland and completely fell in love with this land.
I was particularly drawn to a place on Third Mesa where I would go to pray
for peace at least twice a day. I dubbed this place "Shanti Stone" which
jutted out over the desert floor where the beauty was just magnificent.
I also used two silk scarves (aqua and purple) and watched as the wind
made them dance for peace, carrying the vibration of these beautiful
colors to all areas of the earth. When the wind really took hold, it felt
almost like flying. BTW, Hopi means "people of peace" so I thought
this was a great place to pray for peace as I continue my journey to
Sufi camp. Here's a short poem I wrote about this experience. Also,
just in case someone doesn't know..."shanti" is sanskrit for "peace."
THE SHANTI STONE AT HOPILAND
scarves dancing on the wind
soar with eagle's grace
memories stir within the soul
oh, how I love this sacred place
while praying peace on shanti stone
beauty floods the desert floors
if man could see from where I sit
there'd be no bombs, no more wars
kachinas dance the village square
for the love of mother earth
it's up to us which world arrives
what will mankind choose to birth
gentle people walk this land
I saw god at least a thousand-fold
treasured wealth cannot be measured
when the sun, moon and stars are gold
eyes spill tears into the heart
as mesas fade into the mirror
all people of peace have work to do
the view from the top has never been clearer
by Sharon Pacione
August 9, 2002
Please continue to pray for peace for ALL people as governments
continue to try to wage war. It really is up to us what kind of a world
we wish to live in. Only when good people do nothing may we not
like the outcome!
Peace and love to all,
Here's a short poem I wrote at Sufi camp yesterday, August 12, 2002
after a chanting session. It's a continuation of my love affair with
Creator and Creation. This is my invitation to all who walk in awareness
upon our beautiful planet.
JOY RIDE TO ETERNITY
sit upon the breast of sunrise
and greet the song bird of my soul
sing to me the music of the spheres
cradle me in tenderness
as we birth new moments
be with me in peace, compassion
and love for all beings
whirl with me on stardust,
spiraling into the nest of heaven
kiss the stars in my eyes
under an ocean of moonlight
travel with me through time
on rainbows of the heart
touch me as I burst into a
billion suns seeking the source
walk beside me on this journey
into the universe of diamonds
remember me as we dance in oneness
on the joy ride to eternity
by Sharon Pacione
August 12, 2002
Peace and love to all,
test your wings on my soul
fly with me into the realm of imagination
soar the current of freedom
to inimaginable heights
take me higher still
to look into the eyes of fate
and kiss the smile of god
by Sharon Pacione
September 28, 2002
after Thich Nhat Hanh talk in Memphis, TN at Peace Walk 2002
I have a vision of peace for all of life, where hu-man re-members his
god-like qualities and shares his blessings with all of creation.
I have a vision of freedom for all forms of life, where no living being lives
in a cage and everyone is free to be, and where mankind sets himself
free from the prison of the mind.
I have a vision of abundance and prosperity for all, where time is spent
in creating joy through art and music and nature, and the necessities
of life are provided by those who love their work of service to others.
I have a vision of a world where uniqueness and diversity are honored,
and every living lifeform is looked upon as beautiful.
I have a vision where no harm is done to any living being, and decisions
are based on purity of intent and what is for the greater good of all.
I have a vision of a world where we honor our differences rather than
fight over them.
I have a vision of universal consciousness, where we recognize the
connectedness of everything and where heaven and earth embrace in
the open arms of love.
by Sharon Pacione
Sunday, September 1, 2002
written at Hopiland, Arizona
TWO ARE ONE
a dream is floating in the air
hands caress soft, silken hair
the breath of two ignite as one
hearts on fire awake the sun
great mystery guides love's destiny,
unites limbs from the sacred tree
souls lift the moon on wings of fate
and dance the rim of heaven's gate
by Sharon Pacione
September 12, 2002
IN THE DREAMTIME
ache and longing fill the moments
each second seems eternity
cradle me in silken memories
as distance sails on lonely seas
heaven and earth merge in oneness
we hold each other across time and space
cells remember sacred union
heart is pumped for the lover's race
passion fills my entire being
toes play and curl at thoughts of you
tears form wells in empty places
in the dreamtime, all this is true
by Sharon Pacione
September 5, 2002
The following poem is dedicated to my first grandchild to be born at the
end of December. It's a question and answer session between parent(s)
and child. Peace and love, Sharon 444
WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?
Where did you come from, Baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.
Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.
What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than anyone knows.
Whence that three-corner'd smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.
Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs' wings.
How did they all come just to be you?
God thought of me, and so I grew.
But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought of you, and so I am here.
By George MacDonald
from the book: "Best Loved Poems (A Collection of More Than 200
Favorite Verses", Edited by Patricia A. Pingry, Page 53
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