Wordless in chilly New York City
(5 degrees F)
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Eternal Love
My blogging friend, Lauren Mokasdar, at http://englishwifeindianlife.com/ has a BBC news story on her blog about how she found the love of her life and her subsequent life in India as an English wife. She and I both believe in reincarnation and feel that our marriages to husbands whom we love so deeply, arose out of a relationship in a former life. Her love crosses cultures and in so doing provides a fascinating story that is an inspiring celebration of eternal love. Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you!
Love always, Ellen
Being in Winter
How higher they be
than me
for they know how
to just Be
always
in the present
in the Silence
so profound in winter
but in the forever now
I look fearfully ahead
towards a future of endings
and losses
of attachments
acquired over the years
none more strong
than our love
I used to know
how to just be
like a tree
spontaneously
when very young
now I seek to Be
as I was in youth
in rapture
not just in nature
but always
as the sheep
in the deep
of winter.
When I Say Jesus…
When I say Jesus
in these poems,
I hope you don’t think
that I think
that I know
with any real precision
what I’m talking about.
When a stone
says yes
to one day
returning to
the shimmering heart of a star,
and the star says yes
to beaming that stone’s endless heart
through all of space and time,
and the gravity inside of every
pebble, rock, and speck of sand
becomes a continuum of Meaning,
it becomes difficult to say
just what exactly that
stone has become,
or what all those other stones
are really up to.
What seems most important,
is that after years of wandering
from town-to-town,
gathering in taverns
or caves by the sea
to listen to sages and saints,
after walking across miles
of starlit landscapes,
some nights torn asunder
by the tensions of possibility and custom,
others rescued from the void
by the touch of…
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ocean into a drop…
All know that the drop merges into the ocean, but few know that the ocean merges into the drop.
~ Kabir
I in me…
When I in me understands I in you, we in us awakens…
The Secrets of Winter
Sweet winter melancholy
assuages my soul
with its
bare branches
reaching Godwards
and
its subdued light
speaks of the Almighty
in silent whispers
that are drowned out by sunlight
and the mania of summer.
Follow the Yellow-Lined Road
My husband recounts a story of being a little boy riding in the backseat of his parents car and blowing kisses to the telephone polls because they looked so lonely.
MOONSIDE 
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