Tagged: love

Imprisoned

My essential being is in prison,

Flesh imprisons me, fresh cells

Lock me up each day, I am filled

With fear that I will never be free.

Nothing else. Fear from my lungs:

My songs are dead songs;

Fear from my throat: my words

Are numb and unborn. Fear

From my heart: my love

Is withered and weeping.

Through the bars, in the sky

A symbol of freedom –

Through my thoughts,

Shiva in each cell

Is freedom.

Om Nama Shivaya

Is my idiom.

Stop – Continued

My self is stopped to see

If stopping matters more

Than thankfulness,

More than jobs and the wages

From those jobs, more than

Every love that needs protection;

If stopping can be reinvented –

Some physical law to present

It as a pleasure to be got

Or an illusion that does not

Have to be disturbed.

If the dream of life is to be still;

If the stopping is the stillness

That some have spoken of.