I am a tuning fork for wind my heart a drifting echo chamber sculpted by the wind songs it sings

I am a rainbow dream drifting in moon song soaring through painted winds
liquidity of life
dissolves into itself

I am a waking dream of leaf shadows flowing across the sidewalk fading into night

water flows
disappears
into its own wetness

wind slides into its own movement

and you are my heart song echoing in the trees and mountains and deep deep canyons that we can never cross… we exist only as echos of echoes and there is no more looking for the beginning or the end of the wind that soars across the great divide…

there is just the wind…. dancing…. with wind

and we magically appear in the dancing….

only in each other’s love light is there this resonance… this source-less echo…

without this dream of reflections… there is not even darkness… there is no outside… or inside… there are no sides…

we seem to be the dancers to unseen music…. a music that relies on separate notes….

gently
softly

wind caresses you from the inside out and you are the wind’s caress 
love’s delicate beauty cannot be grasped

all words dissolve into
sound

feathers
the dream of edges
seemed to have a center
and a door
to another side

but there are no walls
there are no sides to the mirror
all is liquid transparency

here we are bathing in the day dream of love
knowing it is a dream
is the dream

not knowing you are dreamt
is the dream

how can I not love you
there is no one
nor two

we are the spinning of echoes blooming
and drowning in the back beat of moon

home is a dream of joy and sorrow where no one leaves
or returns

time is an echo of all the stories you ever heard reverberating in a nautilus shell spinning day dreams into a fabric of sound

lyrical dreams of light and wonder

shimmering reflections of unspeakable beauty and dreams of dark deep canyons where the sun rarely shines

two are never separate
nor joined

the dream is as real as it seems
golden finch slides through the morning

her shadow slides through my fingers

this song slides through our minds

we are the stories we share
sharing is the beauty

this is the love we live in
we can never see it
we are it

paper hearts
paper birds
paper worlds crumpled and blooming

paper flowers
paper words
sea of ink flowing silently into sky and sea

painting lands known
and unknown

upon which you seem to wander looking for more words more knowing more solidity

more land
more wandering
more time

echoes
that have no source
cannot lead you to the dreamless space

it does not exist it is only an echo like you

wind sighs its empty breath
first red roses are dancing knowing not of spring

or wind
no one holds the pen that writes you sketches you into this worded world

there is no pen
nor story
that is not story

and you, a beautiful story
rich and lush and glowing with all stories ever heard

a flowing gown of reflections that no one wears
memory’s beautiful garden blooms and wilts

paper petals
paper dust
paper wind

poems unravel
and not even darkness remains
many believe that enlightenment is the magical disappearance of you, but you never were

nor was there a sky sprinkled with stars
nor devastatingly beautiful colors of sunset

no colors are painted without thought
all is thought
thought is thought

the dream dreams itself
simultaneously appearing and dissolving into itself

so what exists if even illusion is illusion?
there was never a sky to swallow you or wind to blow through you there was never any thing called love
there were never any things at all

spring and summer unfold with their blossoms
autumn brings it’s windy golden leaves

winter sings its long dark nights
and you remain
loving the beauty of the seasons
the fullness and emptiness of love

no longer looking for meaning or truth or any solidity at all
simply loving the love of it all

sea foam clouds drift through sapphire skies through your eyes

through these words
worlds drift through your mind stream

there is no script
no one to read it
no words to slide off
no pages to dissolve into sky no sky…

words of love are only words
what is love
what are words
what is in the word sky
what words could be true or false when true and false are words?

the mind is a waterfall of words
skimming across pools of liquid shadows
memories paint the day dream with echoes

I am this flowing description
thought seems to take its place in the symphony of perception there is no one left to read it

river of life flows as it does
spontaneously
naturally
all by itself

I am a wind song sculpted by wind
cast adrift in a sea of shimmering light