Then Came the Revolution

We have a troubled history
of repression, greed, and pain,
but never seem to learn from it,
so it happens yet again.

A church of greed and privilege,
as Martin Luther learned,
had no place in his belief,
and a mighty tide had turned.
     Then came the Revolution
     and a righteous fire burned.

“No taxation without representation”
became the order of the day,
as Americans rebelled,
dumping taxed tea in the bay.
     Then came the Revolution,
     and Empire passed away.

“Liberté, égalité, fraternité”
chanted the French masses,
tired of seeing ever more
aristocratic excesses.
     Then came the Revolution,
     and Louis’ power passes.

In October, on the Neva,
the Romanovs were swept away,
and the mighty Winter palace
was bloodstained on that day.
     Then came the Revolution
     to herald Communism’s day.

When Mao finished his Long March,
and Chiang was forced to flee,
the Chinese people waited
to see what now would be.
     Then came the Revolution,
     but still they are not free.

South Africa’s apartheid,
the crash of Berlin’s Wall,
the bloodshed of the Arab Spring,
strong lessons to us all:
     When comes the Revolution
     we all must heed the call.

Corporations tell us now
we must all spend and borrow;
and hired politicians lie,
and steal, and feign deep sorrow.
     Now comes the Revolution:
     it’s happening tomorrow!

           * * *
We have a troubled history
of repression, greed, and pain,
but never seem to learn from it,
so it happens yet again.

Temporal Reflections on Several Levels

“Because You are unlimited, neither the lords of heaven nor even You Yourself can ever reach the end of Your glories. The countless universes, each enveloped in its shell, are compelled by the wheel of time to wander within You, like particles of dust blowing about in the sky.” (Bhagavata Purana 10.87.41)

Temporal Reflections on Several Levels

Cops and robbers, Lash Larue,
Blind Man’s Bluff and Little Lulu,
Saturday matinees, and Gabby Hayes,
Gillies Lake on hot summer days:
childhood memories swirling down,
like autumn leaves fall to the ground.

Bright foliage from my tree of life,
leaves of joy, of pain, of strife;
the luscious fruits of autumn nights,
and hide-‘n’-seek neath dim street lights;
October days at Charlebois Lake,
fishing for pike, and bass, and splake.

In the many worlds within my mind
limitless stories and pathways wind,
and who is to say when each story is through,
when each act completed, if each word true?
      Past many Realities our Dharma may wend,
      for the Dance of Natraj is without end.

A State of Grace

Please note: To many of us a belief built upon faith, rather than logic, is incomprehensible:  logic seems the natural alternative to fantasy and imagination.

Speak not to me of the grace of God,
or the will of Allah strong.
Don’t talk of Buddha’s compassion,
or Natraj’s eternal song.

No misty-eyed redemption,
nor abject sinner’s tears,
with promises of salvation
that prey on primal fears.

No superstitious servitude
demanded by mere men
who put themselves above us
and claim God speaks through them.

What if today is all there is?
No manna, milk nor honey;
no dancing virgins serving wine
in Elysium, bright and sunny.

Let us take responsibility
to live our lives with love,
and not pass that duty
to something “up above.”

We can make each moment Heaven,
by doing all we can
to strive for global betterment
in this Community of Man.

Quantum Enlightenment: First Contact

Hello? Hello?
Hello there? Is anyone at all there?
Is anybody out there
thinking, acting, being, saying,
planning, living, loving, caring,
savouring each moment
as if it was forever?

Or is it all,
perhaps,
happening as we speak,
and Reality breaks
through the Illusion.
Aum.

A Toast for Autumn

It was cool on the verandah this morning. I had on my Commissionaire’s Three-Season jacket, so I was cool, in my own way. The autumn sun was shining through the haze down the harbour, and reflected in a harbour of burnished silver. The wind was northwest, and had a lot to say to the jackpines, who acted just a little giddy. Ranger sat on the eastern step of the verandah, overlooking the cove, and the place where the Torii will be: his devotion to the concept is inspiring. It was a perfect autumn day, wild, different, ever-changing. I saluted the season, and my Canada, with half a glass of Merlot.

May the autumn of my years
be like the autumn on my Shore:
headstrong and proud,
      tempestuous,
but sometimes
      possessed
of a strange
      triumphant
           beauty

.....and a period of
      perfect calm......

and then do it all over,
      yet differently,
      each and every
           Time.

Aum.