The Mystery of the Trinity

There once was an ephemeral place
Such a place...
Where his heart, his soul,
And his mind came together.
They were as one as
She realized them to be.
She saw Harmony lead them on
To Her-- Her, someone whose name
Doesn't matter; let's call her Love.

She loved him and he loved Her.
"Love" is a funny word.
They never said it.
They meant it.
All of this happened before,
On a lonely road where Obscurity
Stopped to give him a lift.
He hitched a ride in darkness
That drove him to the Dead End.

It happened to be a leap year
Though She never paid attention
To any calendar.
She measured the days
Like no one before
Or since-- at least
That was the way
She made him feel.
She asked him to marry...
And to have children.

He replied to her proposal.
She took it in stride--
Something he said...
He wanted to think.
He needed to get away,
Just for a while, to think.

Just for completeness sake
You should know that Love
Never asked him what
He wanted to think about.
Love was like that.

Once, they gave everything--
Their hearts, their souls
Their minds, each to each.
Freely given, per se freely.
Love was like that, and when he
Met her, he held nothing back.
Love made him feel good.
The per se good.
The philosopher's good.
He imagined that Love
Treasured similar feelings
In Her Heart.

The kind of love you read about
The kind of love you believe
Could never exist, did exist.
He knew that once.
It happened when
His heart, his soul, and his mind,
Came together for that one time.
Not even in a dream...
Not even in a dream.

He was vulnerable.
He lost all vulnerability
When She appeared
They became one--
His heart, his soul and his mind.
She loved all three.
She loved all three as one...
This was the Mystery of the Trinity.

Only Love understood this Mystery.
He couldn't explain it.
She told him that it didn't matter
What he thought -- Leave the
Horizons alone, Love said.
What matters is what we feel
What we see, what we touch,
What we are, together.
When he tried to look beyond,
That's when Trouble would start.

At the Dead End
He remembered--
When he first met Love,
He asked her a question--
What about the body--
How does the body fit into all this?
The body, she said,
The body is nothing...
It's just for us to use...
Like this.
She kissed him.
You feel the body?
Yes, he said.
That's not the body
That you feel, Love said.
She kissed him again...
This lets you forget
Your thoughts.
She kissed him again...
This lets you feel
Your sweet heart.
She kissed him again...
This frees your soul
From your body.
What do you mean?
I know, she said,
It doesn't make sense...
But your heart, spirit
And mind are one now.
Three in one...
Do you see? Love said,
The Mystery of the Trinity.

He stood there in the night
Looking around him
All he could see was
The Dead End...
What am I thinking about?
Let me go back
Let me find Love again...
But, at the Dead End
Love was nowhere to be found.
~Dr.M

Chimes

Words prime the poet from his sleepy time,
Like “chimes”— not just a word, a siren which
Lures him into mingling lines to time that rhyme.
See? It’s tricky without the ding an sich—
How each stress silently eases while rhymes fade
When you hear them, the real things— the chimes.
Such simple things, silvery slender metal rods
Hovering gently in the still air as though waiting.
Maybe that’s why she loves them so, and why she
Hangs them by open windows and in her garden.
She smiles when the wind picks up even a little.
She waits while tingles come first in her heart…
Then she hears them jingle in the air as they
Sing to her— she feels them clinging to their
Sisters and brothers on the metal vine— She knows
Spirits linger on wavy crests flowing through
Spaces between them, as they’ll touch and cavort
With their luck to be with her, who is always
Aware of their waiting moments— suspending
Their animation with fain hopes, while they
Languish limply in stifling still air when…
She’ll blow soft, and they’ll smile with her again.
~Dr.M

Words Without Words

He wore a perfect blindfold-- a bleak mask
For an elected blindness not to see
A thing, or any one, including their
Words to read that could be misleading him.
Words can deceive, even start bloody wars.
He began scrubbing his memory of language--
Thought symbols he used to speak, hear, read
And write…they only feed on themselves
Like cannibals hungry for glib answers
From his gut, twisted by feckless questions.
Now he hears language sounds that mean nothing,
Like the sharp commands heard by wild dogs
Unleashed by scarecrows that they ignore.
He hears rushes of the wind, cicadas,
Thunder, and waves repeating restful
Endings upon sandy shores, music heard--
Unspoken things like that, unwritten, move
On, to forget without traces so he’ll be ready
To hear wondrous things as they are just born.
He might hear tandem footsteps on the sand,
On grass, moving closer, moving away…
Stopping, silence-- a real moment simmers…
He listens as the quiet of someone there
Brings their world so near to him without a word.
He feels her breathe without symbolic clutter. 
He learns to know her, who she really is.
Maybe now he’ll take the mask from his eyes.
~Dr.M

Time Is My Enemy

Time is my enemy.
I met Time
On my way to You…
Before, I never thought
That Time was my enemy.

I never knew what
Before meant until
I met You-- truly,
Time is my enemy.

Now, I never want
To meet After.
I never want to meet
After ever… Yes,
Time must be my enemy.

I have You Now.
And Now never
Seems to change.
But Time is always at work,
Working against me
As sure as it is my enemy.

Time steals while I think,
“Are we killing Time?”
Now slips away--
A paranoid entropy
To Before and After.
Time is my enemy.

What can I do?
May I carry You
Close to me, when
Time leaves me
Without Before and After,
Or, if I would kill Time…
Time is my enemy.

Killing Time…
Would then I’ll have
You without Time?
Would then I’ll have You
With me always?
Time would be my memory.

You are beyond Time.
Even Time could never
Be your enemy.
In Time it is this
I’ll understand Dear Heart,
As I know I am with You Now.
~Dr.M

The Curtain Falls

You sign out.
The whistle blows.
The sun sets. 
The curtain falls. 
The earth freezes over.
The heart stops.
A reverse ticking fades
Present into past
Until you are floating 
Blind before you were born.

Regret abandons you. 
You watch the Dead. 
They dance to music
You never could hear--
That never ran out of fashion.
They are in step... a strange Stealth...
They sway away 
From this thought of death.

Rhythmic silent energy
Imbues your invisibility.
You feel like dancing.
And nothing, not even 
Inhibition stops you. 
You ask someone to dance,
And when you come together 
On the glittering floor, 
There is no gravity. 
No one will cut in.
She is yours
Until the music stops.

Life cuts in... 
She is gone.
You are in pain.
You may never dance with her again. 
The floor is empty.
You are born.
~Dr.M

Seeing Stars

Staring into the heavens
When stars are falling
All around you--
You may miss them,
Their shimmering light
Like no other when they’re near,
To guide you through your fear.
Wonders that will never end--
Like the rising sun when you sleep,
Or the beggar you ignored,
Or the phone call you never made
May leave you in the darkest shade…
If you wish stars to fall,
You may wonder
What you have missed,
And at what heaven you
Were staring at at all.
~Dr.M

The Highest Art

When two lips touch to express
Love from deep within each heart,
A moment when each to each they bless
Their kiss to become the highest art.
~Dr.M

The Association of the Moon, LLC

In a clear sky we often see a light--
The same Moon shining again and again.
Dawns, mornings, afternoons, dusks, days and nights,
Moving through splendid spherical phases.
Waxing, waning, quarter, half and full Moons,
Essence never falters, never changes--
Even with that One Giant Step long ago,
One July when all of us were watching--
We may recall what we were doing then.

It may be that our lonely Moon sightings
We ought not remember more, those cold
Pictures, no matter how beautiful they
May seem to be -- they are the same Moon
After all is determined-- but to each one--
Every Moon is different, struggling  
Through invisible charged fields of events--
Like points gaining electron volts of mass,
Attracted by something, shedding photon beams
Upon where we are and what we do.
So when we'll see the silvery Moon,
Mystical lunar gravitons may pull
Even stubborn memories to the surface
From their hidden little alcoves repressed...
The dark sides and eclipses of our souls,
Forcing tides of change in our daily lives
From understandings shown by the Moon's light.
~Dr.M

Thoughts Into Words

Fate and Chance vie in a debate…
What does a thought look like
When it morphs into words?
Nothing like when Love and Grace
Cast with the dust of the stars…
A spell onto a mysterious
Collision of strange creatures.
It doesn’t matter what he thinks…
His thoughts won’t escape into words
Not while Sorrow walks with her,
Who bore a child whose blue eyes
Would never bear a single tear.
He sees now how a persuasive disguise
Led one night to a horror hidden…
Where outside a secret room
He heard her strident cry of wasted labor,
Changing her instincts forever.
Only Exhaustion could still her torment.
His thoughts wouldn’t escape into words
To distract her from what has befallen.
Neither Fate nor Chance, but Thought
Deceived her about what he felt,
But his thoughts wouldn’t escape into words.
He dearly wished for a second chance…
He clearly wished he could forget
What Memory would prorogue until,
In his endless sleep, he may enter
The one blind dream of a dead child,
In the arms of his mother,
And his thoughts won’t escape into words.

~Dr.M

Soap Fiend

She bemuses her disbelief

Witnessing the soap opera...

Love, touching, endless kisses,

Relentless invasions of personal space,

Seductions and betrayals...

Every once in a while a marriage...

Everyone is beautiful there.

They emote blindly from a script...

Slaves to predestination.

In these she plays no part,

Being born on the other side of the screen,

They can't touch the things her fingers touch,

And they don't know her business,

No matter how hard they try.

They are as incidental as a click of her remote.

~Dr.M

Morning Rush

Mornings that come too soon

When sleep is in a rush

A cup of coffee is never enough

For deeper still, lying at the root

Is not a trifle, but a rage in a dream

That won’t go away

That leaps out of bed with him

Even when he drives himself

To distraction, it is there…

When out of the showerhead

It rains hard and cold

And the shivers are not what

He thought they are anymore.

Fear could never be this intractable--

No, it can’t be fear

Because the fear died long

Before last night when he

Realized it was the demon

Of someone’s perverse vanity

That looks at him from the blurry mirror

A smug smile… that

Hideous sardonic grimace

That doesn’t reflect who he is

And though he can’t shave away

The stubborn thought

When the second cup makes

The familiar morning headlines seem

As though he lost his freedom

Forever… he thinks of this

Siren, this eerie woman’s

Self-love and pride

Over her own banality.

And he laughs at himself

And he stretches…

And he realizes how close

He really was to losing

The freedom he has left.

~Dr.M

Blinking in the Silence

He had lost something

Along the way

Where the path taken by many

Can be barren.

When all around are strangers,

And he hesitates to bend,

And he can’t find

What he is looking for.

So he walked…

He waited…

He looked…

And in the night,

On an empty road,

He came to a flashing yellow light.

He heard the blinking in the silence…

He stooped low,

And what he found…

Was his loneliness.

~Dr. M

Distance Prevails

Perspective has decreed

The distance will prevail--

Things will get smaller

Like the lay of railroad tracks

Between the rails

There is less and less...

Smaller and smaller they tend

To converge, or, maybe they'll bend

At some horizon

And from nowhere it seems,

A vanishing point appears.



He holds her body close

So close she blurs

Her soul right through him.

He can't seem to let her go

But he has nothing to hold.

The ritual starts with her first step...

And distance prevails.



Perspective is a fickle friend

He watches her until

Less and less she becomes...

And he is nowhere

When she vanishes...

And distance prevails.
~Dr. M

When the Day Is Done

When purple glazes the weltering sky

Limns a horizon like a blanket's hem

Pulling over the dying day again

She waits for the coming night's falling cry

When the scents of perfume and spirits lift

Life from the diurnal torpor's haze

Forcing her impulse above her reason

To walk by the darkened window's tableau

Shadowy figures moving to fast time

In a neighborhood saloon with a band

Guarded by neon proclaiming some such brew

She's hidden her despair and without a care

Opens the door to nightlife's glittering roar. 

~Dr.M

Once in a Blue Moon

She kissed him under a blue moon once

Long ago... a commemorative kiss... a first kiss,

Lingering, and silencing the whole world.



Occasioned by a mutual glance

Chanced when banality after banality

Faded in the night...

By the light of this once in a blue moon.

Their touch became a blue heaven

Of what matters between two hearts.



What became of their first kiss,

When their lips pressed until they were blue?



Hope carries her again to the place

Once again cast in familiar light...

Grace glimmering from a sanctuary,

Hidden in the plane of Longing's domain,

Seemed to show the way to him again

Through the pale shadows of memory.



Her joyful arms reached out for him.

And now the blue it seemed,

Could reflect only her mood.

~Dr.M

Rena

What is it that turns her eyes
Upward beyond our cerulean sky,
Past what we know to be the heavens,
To where nothing has reached…
Not space…
Not even time?

Leave it for Rena to create that space,
Carrying with her all the beauty
She gathers in her magical life.
And she’ll plant there her flag,
Of beautiful words and images,
To flutter in the wind of Infinity…
To always be just beyond
Where the Universe is drifting...

~Dr.M


Please note that Rena is a lovely friend that I had the good fortune recently to meet on Stumbleupon. Please visit her beautiful pages at http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/retrit/reviews/

The Exquisite Sadness

Why can't we do more than remember--

Why can't we bring them back?

Just like a burned ashen ember...

When the fire's gone, unbearably, all is black.


Wondering why, incurably, we're so forlorn

A reason's hidden in a melancholy song

Heard through our heartstrings all along

Mellifluously, all the seasons before we're born.


We're here, elegantly, for a brief time

Nobly in grief, seeking what's sublime

But why on earth... who really knows?

That's just the way, mysteriously, it goes.


Why can't we do more than remember--

Why can't they never ever return?

To every January and to every December

Exquisitely, our lonely hearts will burn...

~Dr.M