The Fires Within” oil on wood


“The Fires Within” oil on wood


How many lumens, the human soul?

Held back til almost
the days of my trip
had gone entire;
our meeting
the singular span
of undiluted pleasure
I enjoyed with brilliant
Feeling invisible tendrils
of deep, instant kinship
and the inevitable thirst
to bask in such
luminous company for
as long as time allowed.
Startling to find reflected
from your chameleon
stone and earth toned eyes,
a fellow soul of candor
unabashed at honest
discourse, a being true
to its higher nature
and therefore open and honest
in all respects.
You who will never shy
from pain, nor pleasure
sorrow, nor joy
life, nor death.
You accept what is
and refuse to deceive or be
deceived in your understanding
of reality,
You possess the greatest key
of creation… and represent
the deadliest threat to those
who desire to subjugate
and control humanity,
an honest and true person
lacks the shackles and chains
that are forged by a
communal failure to have belief
in even the lowest of convictions.
The one who lies to
their very self
can never be free
of the prison they
have constructed
inside their own mind.
Those who refuse
to have the brilliance
of the lumens of their
soul, monitored…tracked…taxed
or metered. Who know that
music, sound and language
can taste as sweet or bitter
as any heaven sent mana…
can sustain and nourish
or sicken and destroy,
that the intention
behind the thought
behind the words, behind the tone, behind the expression
is the creator and vehicle
of the energy thus projected outwards.
An honest being has no desire
to debase, defraud, denounce
the existence of others
for they appreciate what exists
for the sake of itself;
such acceptance requires
zero conditional prerequisites.
Only those who lie in any capacity
feel uncomfortable
around candid souls,
not because they fear being
found false, but rather
for the reason
a honest person reflects
openly the reality their eyes
translate…and liars are uneasy
when forced to see the
truth about themselves.
I find my heart murmuring
with an eager intensity…
a low atonal thrum
anticipating when next
our energies coalesce.
And you who be true
to your own nature,
do you realize all
of such I speak…
I am captivated, intrigued
a moth chasing
the faery will o’wisp
through fogs of time
and distance…
hoping my metamorphosis
imbues strength to
my incandescent wings
praying to be lovely
enough for to glitter
in your quiet
blazing illumination.