Wherever You Are, You Are the Moon

The Sun Loves the Moon, the Moon the Sun
(From love poems to no one but her)

The moon, her phases, her ever changing face,
Full on she beams her blue white smile down
Waxing she winks coyly as if her slivered face
Is peeking out from behind a bathroom door -
I know the moon is you and you are the moon
Because I know that I am the sun and the sun is I
Useless things to most, I hold dear to my heart,
Esoteric and ephemeral things, faint as moonlight
Illuminating the petals on the flowers in a garden,
Wisps of breath rising up from your lips faint
And precious as loss dissipating on the cold air.
I love you, I do,  always have and always will

A Cancer Moon

It's internal as if experiencing the world through my heart. Feelings like sonar pinging out into the world that is recognized when the ping returns and hits the heart with its signal. It's almost as if the world itself does not exist on the outside only this heart representation of the world exists on the inside. When my heart is breaking, the world itself is breaking. When my heart is broken like it is right now, the world is broken. The world is a shattered thing, a tumble of sharp, cold, hard shards of shattered glass glistening wetly in the soft, internal warmth of my heart place. With Cancer in the moon position, at least for me, it doesn't come with that protective shell, it's just the mush inside the crab shell.

Ralph and The Singularity

A Short-Short Story by David Sky

Ralph watches on his tube news on this Singularity Bill that had passed the house and senate and be...en signed into law by President Nelson pondering it a bit seeing below a link to a site that can send to you your own download kit free of charge. Do it right through your home network. Easy Peasy. Every American, the news is saying, now has the civil right of electing to live forever by storing their consciousness in one of the new three dimensional AI's.

Ralph recalls in graduate school studying America's war with the little nation of, Vietnam. In the midst of a heated firefight between two forces of light infantry, a full Captain out for his one mission during his six month deployment necessary to qualify him for an combat badge found himself caught in the field during what was supposed to be a “walk in the park” mission.

He yells at a private sitting next to him over the din, “Here, take this grenade and go throw it in that machine gun nest!”

The private peaks out from behind their cover only to draw .50 caliber rounds his way that explode into the stone fence they are behind sending out metal and rock shrapnel . He says over his shoulder not even looking at the Captain, shaking his head, “that's just not gonna happen, sir”. The private most definitely means it.

That just seemed so crazy and showed such great spirit and awareness to Ralph that he for the first time looked back on his ancestors as something other than dangerous fools. But that is how he felt now about their Singularity Legislation- “that 's just not gonna happen, thank you very much”.
I'd rather be dead with a soul than alive without a soul, he declares aloud to no one.

Prose Poem, Inconsolable

It is easier to be brave in the daylight, easier to keep that faith in God, light and love. At night though ... when that curtain of darkness descends upon this earth settling in around my shoulders finally like a black shoal, there are not enough lights in all the cities of the world, you know? There are not enough pretty colored bobbles; not enough noise; not enough music; not enough booze. There is not enough outside by any measure to fill the loss of You I feel inside when the sun descends into the horizon and takes its light to the other side of this world. This is what had inspired me long ago to make a friend of the night and She surely is a true and faithful friend who does her best to console me. She loves me even as I love myself, the night, always warm in Her wishes for me and kind in her intentions. But she is not You and no matter if in some small measure my mind may be consoled by Lady Night, my body cannot understand and so remains when without You, my Love, inconsolable in the darkness.

 

Go Soul or God Home (Esoteric Essay)

You're running for your life – never mind why just play along – and you come to a crossroads and you don't know which way to go and your life may depend upon it and then you see in a house to the right at the doorway a wind chime just like the one your sister has in Seattle so you decide to turn right instead of left at this crossroads because you feel that The Universe is “telling” you to turn right because you always liked that wind chime … and this is the level of faith you have that The Universe is interacting with you constantly showing you the way in this world – yes? Who's with me?

Synchronicity is the traffic signal of The Universe. Depending upon context, a synchronicity can be red for Stop, green for Go or yellow for Caution. A dream becomes a meeting with The Universe to discuss life circumstances and to formulate some long term life strategy via highly creative and emotionally and spiritually based visualizations that when recalled and “translated” into left brain logic via the magic of words can center us as a soul here back onto the path of our highest good. Relationships of any kind are charged with profound significance and through the others we connect with in this world, The Universe showers us with meaning, love, art, humor, wisdom as well as direction and concern even support for our soul's well being and our soul's work here in this world. It seems this is an important point that The Universe supports our souls here not our ego. The closer we move from ego to soul, the clearer the street signs from The Universe become. At some best, one moves so close to their soul in this life that it could be said that they are “following their soul's path”.

So more mundanely, I look at my lost luggage that constituted my only possessions in life save a few items in my carry on luggage, at 48 pounds when checked at the airport, as a clear sign from The Universe to let go of “the baggage” in my life. By this I mean my own negative thoughts, fears based upon old paradigms, this kind of thing. But The Universe like any good artists speaks in the language of symbolism and losing ones life in the form of literally baggage hardly needs any translation, as it were. I think sometimes when we are NOT getting THE MESSAGE as was the case with me here, The Universe steps in eventually with a Karmic adjustment of its own.

I have a theory completely unfounded, of course, that The Universe always knocks three times. The first knock is a tap, easily missed.

Maybe a friend says, “hey you need to let go of that past BS, man” and you get it sure, that's true enough, I really should let go of all the past BS.

Then your father dies and again it hits you harder that this life really does have an expiration date and it's way past time to let go of the past and live for now. If that still fails to really sink in, The Universe knocks a third time and the third time is a lot harder because The Universe is singularly consumed with the edification of our soul and never gives up on us. Long after everyone else has given up on us, after we have given up on ourselves, The Universe is diligently and purposefully supporting our every moment.

The third knock out of loving concern, The Universe, never faint of heart, may burn down our home not long after our father has died, maybe we happen to lose your job at the same time, so everything we own is gone, our livelihood now is in jeopardy, our own dear father is gone all just so our soul may finally understand that we can stand in naked apprehension of life - remorselessly, fearlessly, passionately blossoming just like the Expansive Flower that we are.

Everything is perfectly out of control.

The Rocketship

The Rocketship lies upon it's quiet side in the still dusk
The intricacies of its shape subdued by the gathering dark 
It's crash landing upon this new planet has gone unseen
Excess heat from reentry into the atmosphere steams off
Like so many wispy ghosts hissing softly up into the air 
No one cries out. No one bleeds. No one stares in wonder.

Into Light

Poem by David Sky

Bent forward 90 degrees
Head down, steadfast,
Turning into the storm
Like the turn of the leaves
To the oncoming winds

Heart, the flagship, as always
Fearlessly leading the way
Trusting the heart for it seems
The heart's the only part of me
That knows the way home -

“Storms don't last forever,”
Heart intones,
“And darkness turns eventually
Into light” ...