I entered what was broken in two.

Smooth and wavy, a confused grass and clay.

My steps are saturated by the fragrance of wild flowers, a temptation toward their domestic companions.

This garden is more chaotic than tamed.

Still, a design exists…

Moving from the entrance and into the heart of paradise, an eclectic combination of knowledge comes together to form the whole, the integrated crumb of soil intertwined with the two feet that are upon it, intertwined with the roots, stems, flowers, and fruits, intertwined with the air, the clouds, water, and the Sun.

All of this running through me and through you.

Its all too much.

How can I not be satisfied by these rivers of growth.

Seeds becoming plants.

Plants becoming my bones.

Growth becoming me.

There are so many ways to enter the garden.

The stars are in the garden, so why cant I be.

And your eyes are sad.

I am internal at this moment, walking in the beauty, but internal, pushing through a place in my mind, denying my sad eyes as if I not allowed a moment of dystopia in paradise.

Come sit down with me.

Then she smiled me into her world.

A serpent wisdom I cant resist

And it comes, words of wisdom, tangled emotions, and cliches that are stripped free from the cliche.

And I listen, I watch, I feel and I wait with wonder to hear what it is Im revealing to myself through this woman.

Thirty five years shes been coming to this dancing tree to connect with the earth and breathe the ocean deep.

The ocean will pull it all out of you, all that gunk. When you get all gunked up, come to her. It may hurt but shell heal yah.

She showed me her money making magic, green tattooed on her left palm, the silent incantation. And words balanced on oracle like laughter, floating off for others to catch.

Homeless now and again, waiting for a hip transplant, homeless now but taken care of, her smile attracts.

Theres nothing to fear in this life. Took me a long time to get that, but Id like to think I have. It all balances out.

And then it came, as it often does, when I meet women who have that touch of unbound electric truth.

First the beauty, the wisdom, the compassion and then the story of childhood traumas, of innocence undone, of stinging betrayals.

And then the resolve, I love life, all of it.

The serpent swallows its tail.

She spoke and I listened, stories only for my mind.

And as I walk away the question comes, “why do I speak to myself as such?”

The teachings are everywhere.

Wake up Walking Cloud, wake up.

When Buddha lies we laugh.
When Buddha lies we cry.
When Buddha lies we suffer.
When Buddha lies we breathe.
When Buddha lies, so do you.

by Emeric Damian 

Like the Sky, I let it pass.
It is not who I am.
It is not up to me.

As the Sky, I see it all,
Yet where am I,
Am I at all.

Point to me,
Show me to myself,
I am neither here nor there
Yet I am.

Sensual and sleek, a crow posing in a Robins nest, fluffed and moist in the warmth of a movement held still, stretching the body long into her green eyes; Wings disappearing into his body, a body disappearing into his mind, and behind the veil of cupped eyelids he glances towards her darkness.

Her sloping shadow and soft smile illuminate his imagination.

She is inside of him, thick and warm, penetrating his pose; he holds it.

Finally releasing but not letting go, it stirs inside of him, dreaming to come out. A shadow, a milky white conscious awareness turns the weightless stick into stone.

He doesnt want to share it, afraid hell lose himself in her nest.

A crow poses, wings reach wide as if to stretch, but feather into flight.

Dream, there is a moon, a night light for pixies
Dream, there is a breeze, a lullaby for all
Only the dream, awaken the dream, the dream wakes

Sleep; my arms are around you.