secrets or truth within lies?
Whichever is concealed canít hide behind eyes.
Those windows with ingress into my timeless existence
Disclose the true disposition of my center with unmeasured persistence.
There are those who se through this and some who just know
And one without questions and forever has know.
Nothings that new, only newly met with,
Found in the warmth and itís light for itís meaning and gift.
What grows without time to grow within life
So that its own time gives birth? For all things seek their light!
Light lest it grow without treadmills that position behind
The elements that fashioned the dawningís new site?
In this is the hazard, or the present, that is of all new daysí springs.
For does not the new dawn draw itís first breath from the nightfallís final sigh?
As all beginnings are nothing more that the aftereffect of some conclusion,
So that the expense of new being is no less that all it was built from.
So what is then to be left of the ashes of these Genesisí?
For their misstep it is not, nor frailty that they ceased.
A new life is shared, but that the joy of it is seen as their part.
Is this then, all to be given in the progeny brought forth?
Would that they reflect their gift as their gain?
And this gain in itself, beautifully their new life?
If not, would they wallow in grief seen as their only repast?
And such grief then their eternal reward, even as a hell?
If not seen the joy of what was gained for the price as their new rebirth
Then all to be gained was not, and only the day has joy.
The night has no dawn, and no increase, and for wont.
Why does this tragic play of self, play out with such sadness, such loss?
This would not be as death but for self, as for self, only self.
Not the gain seen as their, but as the loss of themselves.
Is not there to be seen in the light of imbalance, the soul of the mask?
If the gain is only loss to one, then there is a loss of gain to the other.
Bust just as the mask revealed, there is always imbalance.
One so blessed with gain looses so very little to the cost of the self-sighted.
That there is opposition in all things, so then would e their gain be so little.
Until seen as gain for each as gain for all, the imbalance leaves its mark on both
If one then has joy, then in opposition one has not, for so it will be to each in their choosing.
Share with me my joy in the emerging, and be of the joy of my life.
Be in the joy of all my life, and may I be so yours. In that, both would be more.
Is this not hidden to one who has seen, but pray not touched too lightly?
So then, what time is born and what if then die?
Does this time to be, touch where my heart has seemed always stood?
Simply to touch? Or to fill, so with the going it brought forth into this new life, born new.
Forever then as what was thought too much, has grown to so much.
For if not as this once seen, would it yet be?
Such is this season the time, or the blind hopes of blind dreams?
Neither will bring to halt the dawn to come -
One will make that dawning the daybreak of the most closest joy to be shared.
May 11, 1994