Electric Sky

Cascading down through an onyx sky
like the phosphorescent root system of a divine flower from the gardens of Valhalla,
a rare display of the powerful relationship between the elements. 
As if a cantankerous child, the fingers of light prod at the apron of Mother Earth.
Paradoxical magic is lightning.
Its essence of electricity, both powerful and dangerous.
Effortlessly illuminating the blackest oceans of sky in an instant,
then vanishing, waiting, patiently and quietly in the darkness to strike again.
Buzzing with the seduction of power and provocatively smelling faintly of danger
radiant arteries surge across the horizon daring any man to capture the elemental divinity.
 Zeus himself, God of Gods singularly, has dominion over lightning
employing its power as fiery spears of judgment to reign upon the unjust.
I stand in awe of its colossal brightness and beauty,
I kneel in respect of its destructive power.
May my life's indiscretions be not so offensive as to anger the heavens,
for one touch from these tentacles of brilliant light would certainly extinguish my own.

A wonderful teaching *1st of more pieces centred on Yoga*

My breath the invitation I extend to the world outside myself.
Life filling my lungs,
Love filling my heart.
My mind though powerful, resigns itself to rest,
as the elementally spiritual parts of my being
 awaken to the universe
and the possibilities within it revealed to me
through my practise.
Worry slips away as ice on peaked rooftop on the first warm morning after a storm.
Through the compassion learned in practise I see my truest self...the energy, and the love within me
reaching ever outward.
I honour what my Yoga practise allows me to release and forgive every day.
But with enormous passion and joy
 I celebrate the sight Yoga has restored to me,
I become more everyday,
My energy larger, but softer
The spaces between myself and all living things getting smaller,
while my consciousness grows continuously.
Namaste'

When we preserve love in our hearts,
keeping our dreams with us during waking hours
seems not only effortless,
but neccessary.

Those Noble Politicians

True;  there are undeniably
some very clever people involved in politics.
Unfortunately a lack of forsight, integrity and wisdom
often nullifies this blessing of intelligence.
Not such a profitable trade off from where I sit.

The Sublime Contradiction within the Lunacy of Love

It occurs to me that I would likely have more success attempting to balance a piano upon the head of a pin than struggling to  reconcile dominion over my dreams.
the contestants? my Mind and Heart.
My heart transcribes the subtitles to an epic documentary; of my pursuit of love
it does so with melting pastels, employing colours there are no words to describe.
My mind is certainly capable of invoking the same sort of nefarious wisdom that my ancestors consulted the 'Green Faerie' to partake of.
A kaleidoscope of candy kisses serve as the lyrical highlights of my career in romance and seduction to date.
Indeed, at times my methods as dubious as some of my mistresses.
It has been said that many of this planet's most sought after maidens will not tolerate 'head games'.
Hmmm.  I find this interesting.
What of Tibetan monks, in this vein?
These uniquely disciplined souls devote a great many hours to meditation..
a significantly cerebral activity...or 'head game' if you rather.
Are there any games that are acceptable within this ludacris 'adult world'?
Am I the snake?
Am I the ladder?
I suppose Cupid must be ajudicator in this very serious and adult human project known as love.
Do you suppose the amorous cherub has sentenced me
 to some sort of ethereal penalty box for 'non-romantic' conduct?
The fragrance of one thousand kisses seal my fate and cast my hunger into a state of frenzied permanence.

Dancing in the Rain

Fate strums at my heartstrings.
A romantic waltz of rich emotion in which I am in the centre of,
aren't you?
Nature the only ballroom grand enough to host this all consuming joyous celebration!
My rational self content to retreat into the shadows and give way to my heart and soul.
Oh, to let my love run free!
like a wild mustang charging across a sundrenched plain simply because it is.
My rhythm and technique are inconsequential. Passion is not deliberate and precise
it is jovial, messy and soft.
Let go.
Give in to the drumbeat.
Dance for the sake of dance. Joy is the only thing you risk.
I close my eyes.  It is as though a musical enchantress adorned with flowers guides my steps.
The rain, like honey falling from the sky.
Every drop that lands upon me is both arousal and applause
I have never been so honest, on display, naked of my modern defenses.
Let this music never end, for within this dance...
I am love.

a New Path

I sensed a change...
a shift in consciousness back to a more familiar, less corrupt self.
Let love revive my resilience of character with a soft kiss; stir the warrior.
Wisdom and courage can be strong allies through the process of awakening.
I seek to enlist all resources available to me, both of the earth and of the mystical.
For those souls sincerely craving truth, it would seem that Aristotle lovingly offers the cuff of his robe so that they may wipe away the tears that first must be cried to allow for growth.
Fallen warriors whisper their secrets of fortitude and cunning to chosen souls.
Their words are delivered to us upon thoughtful, crisp autumn winds.
This wealth of ageless experience and insight more vast than the sky itself longs to be embraced, and demands respect.
Yes, honour thy wounds, but be cautious not to lament over them at length.
Pity is like quicksand, it can be an arduous grip from which to escape.
Our trials and certainly our defeats offer valuable lessons to be learned, lessons deeper than any ocean on this planet await off the battletorn shores of self-discovery and exploration.
Know that revolutions have been born of far less noble motives than reclaiming integrity and healing.
Leaders, true Kings would be well advised to use their influence to spread hope and empowerment among their followers rather than tyranny. There is unquestionably always a cost for cruelty.
There is a profound injustice within history when these ancestral accounts are reduced to fable and fantasy.
A foundational value of the knowledge passed on through history is that it encourages evolution through learning.
What have we learned?
Repeating history does not honour it, but rather demonstrates an apathetic disrespect, not to mention for our forebearers who toiled tirelessly.
Their efforts; the breath that gives life to the lessons so worthy of man's diligent  heartfelt attention.