The gold of the sun 
reflects the light 
of its descent, 
that appears as soft pink 
upon the ocean's surf.

And the dolphins visit us 
one last time—for this day--
and play in their peacefulness, 
serenity, and balance 
as they majestically 
move through the waves.

I feel glad for their coming, 
for their joyful appearance 
so many times today, 
that lifted my heart from its reverie 
and allowed me to look to
the joy, 
to the light 
of this day.

The lake is stilled 
as it releases the lingering ripples of the mind; 
and quietness ensues that opens a corridor within, 
where the voice of light is heard.

Its song carries away doubt, and dissolves the critic's rhetoric. 
And wonder is born in the breath of each new moment 
that arises, and takes flight 
like a dove slowly gliding 
above the still lake, 
in the landscape of our dreams.

Stillness returns to us, 
like a lost home that is found after a long journey, 
and we are comforted in the silence, 
in the stillness that remains. 
This is likened to a vast inhaled breath 
ready for its outpouring of light, 
that the exhalation may birth into the world of our knowingness.

Yes, all is silenced here, 
all becomes stillness 
on the face of the vast lake, 

before we etch our mark 
and create ripples upon its surface.

These ripples, however, are of joy; 
they are the ripples of love. 

May they be never-ending, 
may they breathe new life into existence 
in such a way that their reverberations may never end, 
so that such joy may endure, 
just like the stillness that can always be found within the depths, 
within the peace, 
that exists beyond it all.

The light lifts the flower's face towards the sun, 
releasing it from the place where shadows cast their form. 

The flower has only to turn to face the light, 
enjoy is warmth, 
its peace, 
and follow its natural pattern of growth
—where love leads.

Its delicate petals are guarded 
by other stems, 
also filled with God's beauty, 
that stand by its side as protecters and guides 
on the journey ahead.

The flowers' crimson hearts are opened, 
revealing the structures within
that are no longer afraid to be seen. 

The bouquet is mixed with purple-violet blooms 
that look towards the evening sun
—that highlights their beauty. 

It is as if their very colors 
were made 
to celebrate the crimson sky, 
that then turns to the purples of the sun's eventual setting.

Perhaps the delight of such colors 
remind us of the perfection 
held within nature's dance of changing light. 

Perhaps the flowers reflect the unfurling of our petals 
and the revelation and promise of tomorrow's buds, 
that lie in-wait for the morning sun
to coax their opening,
toward the splendor and wonder each miracle may bring.

The flower grows
one stage at a time.

At first its seed is planted
and the shoot unfurls,
and reaches out its tender leafy-arms
towards God's light.

Then, more leafage occurs,
bursting forward, outward, and upward
until upon the stalk's tender crown
a bloom appears,
and is beheld in its majesty,
garnished by the sun,
and stirred by the breeze.

So, let go
and let the growth occur
on its own,
and in its own timing.
So, blessed you are.

"Blue bird, sat in the tree, sing me a song and tell me where you have been."

"I've been sailing above treetops, flying high, so very high,
far up into heaven beyond the distant sky.
I've seen the vastness of the oceans, their blue-green tipped with surf. 
I've seen diamonds in their settings, nestled deep within the earth--
and even there, they capture the light.

"I've seen the benevolence and beauty of people passing by, 
and have watched in amazement as some venture to climb 
the highest peaks of mountains, 
to gain just a glimpse 
of what it is that I see.

"My feathered tips have carried me, as I'm taken by the winds, 
to mystical lands and places far beyond my dreams. 
They exist in secret corners, that others do not know, 
and there walk the Ancient Ones
—in their solace and divine spirit.

"There, they plan the future
of how humankind might grow;
some plans are written as law 
and some 
are for future dreamers to know.

"They decree, the world is traveling to some distant point, 
where peace is laid as pathways within the divine heart, of each. 
They know the earth is renewing, herself, from all that has passed by, 
as they dream of her rivers flowing once more 
and her love shining, through each sunset and dawn.

"Such a vision seems like heaven, I know, for indeed it most surely is. 
It's a place where forgiveness is given and awareness is born,
that gives rise to the spiritual altitude that I, the blue bird, have seen 
and have come to know—in my dreams and visions--
flying high above it all." 

The Island
stands strong 
with the surf before its feet, 
secured in its view of the expanse 
of that which exists 
beyond the changing tides.

It is seated within its peacefulness 
of eternal presence, 
with only the whitecaps to observe
—of interest, but unchanging to its structure.
Its objective stance 
is set apart from the shores 
of life.

Even as the waves 
may touch its soft sands 
—that can be appreciated, tasted, and felt between the toes--
the Island of Self remains, centered.

It turns towards its own thoughts, 
that sink within 
to the depths of its internal being
—of light, of love, of the Divine— 
where the stillness of its vast heart is always found,
in that place where eternal reality exists.

The Lone Cypress. 
Big Sur, California.

I'm just listening
to the soul of the earth, 
from which we're all born 
and are, therefore, all connected--
one to the other, 
heart to heart, 
soul to soul.

We are all a part of the wholeness 
that this earth created within us. 
And in Her 
we see our true reflection.

May we tend to Her with love, 
and in so doing 
we tend to our own soul's 
need for love and healing.