Mystery Awaits in New Wake

2 minutes reading time

The spirit in the body

grew tired. What is life worth

If I sit here and roll in societies dirt?

She built castles in the sand,

and when society broke down,

when society showed her that all standards and

beliefs in their current form

were sh*t.Β 

She got up off her feet

& began again.


This is how I feel about the millennial generation.

they are all wrapped up in technology

eyes that don’t see.

ears that don’t hear.

locked into screens.

instead of right .HERE.

with the flowers falling upon their faces
as they trickle

from the wi n d πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨

I am not sure why the millennial nation

the 🌎🌍🌏 nation is locked up in jobs they hate

when there is an escape

to be kissed by the wind,

followed by the crow

struck apart by lightning as it



have you felt it?


can you proceed it?

wonder dear child.

& float among the water lilies…


Whispered The Great Mother

I wrote this poem before Covid-19 hit us hard.

I remember sitting at the bar with a good friend watching the news back in March. We were at the Cheesecake Factory staring at the screen and thinking Gosh this has got to be the climax of | apocalypse. 

Now people are not stuck in jobs they hate.

Now people are stuck at home if they are lucky enough to have one.

I am lucky enough to have found one here at Dhamma Patapa.

Truly the world is my home.

But the truth is, I have been in and out of homes since the day I turned 18. I have never been steady, I have lived out of my car, inside my brother’s walk-in closet, in group homes, with co-workers. I have found no place where I can lay my head and rest except in the arms of this vast universe. 

Mystery tugs at my heart, and I begin to flow like water.

My hope is that you do the same.

I whisper to the stars and call out your name.

find yourself, be yourself, 

find home in this body.


Mystery is uncomfortable

I wish you comfort in this 



The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.

How do we begin to define our lives from our own perspectives?

In The Name of the Moon

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