Mores of Timbuktu

My parents taught me right and wrong

Traditions taught me too

Then I grew up and moved away

As far as Timbuktu

Though similar in many ways

They had some different views

Their customs seemed quite foreign

But their sentiments rang true

Although such mores are cultural

And relative thereto

What would be gained should I offend

Their conscience or taboos?

And so I learned to see their side

Respecting “good” they do

For all in all they cherish

What their parents taught them too

Ego Placebos

The need for status symbols

Those which boost the heart with pride

Hides symptoms of deficiency

Which vex the soul inside

These vain ego placebo’s

Ephemeral relief

Cannot cure that which ails the core

Nor quell self-loathing’s grief

Instead its stratifies the haves

Apart from the have-nots

Deluding countless masses

That their self-love must be bought

And yet this empty promise

Leaves believers in the lurch

For if the truth were known

Conceit would tumble from its perch

For hubris never rests content

It craves a higher throne

And Narcissus still pines away

Eternally alone

Convolution

A fool used his eyes to find himself

And when he had found a mirror

He negated the significance of his eyes

While seeing his reflection

He considered self a passing apparition

Then credited the mirror

For containing the world

Such convolution!

Can one turn their eyes 

Upon themselves?

Why measure 

Then discount the rule?

A reflection cannot rob identity

And a mirror is empty 

Without the light of reality

A wise man closes his eyes

And enters mind

He finds self

The source of knowledge

And realizes

The universe 

Revealed within

A permanent fixture

No one takes notes 

On a burning piece of paper

To perceive the truth perpetual

While embracing self-extinction

Is an exercise unequaled in futility

The infinite comprehends the finite

And constants are the backdrop of change

Who can clock eternity with a stop watch

Or measure the boundless with a yard

Why then weigh mind in a thimble of flesh

And self in the wind of mortality

The Tempest

I saw my image on the waves 

Reflected from a tempest’s rage

Distorted and distressed it seemed

Contorted as a fevered dream

Then all at once the weather changed

My image also mirror the same

The winds calmed down, the waters cleared

Creating now a perfect mirror

I thought how like my inner state

The calm that makes reflections straight

To know oneself one must begin

To calm the tempest’s force within

The Nest

In the quiet solace of the room

We awake to understanding

From the silent morning hours we knew

That this day would bring expanding

The warming fire’s amber hue

Its colors dance impromptu

Leaking light in my cocoon

In your laughter all my fear withdrew

All defenses now disbanding

Healing every hidden childhood wound

Tears released at last o’er ran me

Without a prayer

Without a clue

Turned inside out

Turns out that you could feel at ease

I sensed you knew

Inside these walls we find

All walls fall down

Inside one heart

There beats love’s silhouette sound

This is the nest that I imbue

You’ll find the gift without a wrapping

Our love cannot contain the rue

Though life and death are overlapping

A final word, I’ll bid adieu

In time or out I’ll find you

Until we’re joined and rest ensues

Know that I love you

Outside the Box

I live inside a tiny box

It’s dark and filled with paradox

Outside the ego’s confined space

A boundless universe awaits

As empathy erodes these walls

My isolation soon dissolves

First pin holes start which let in light

Blinding at first, then truth ignite

Awakening all to reveal

The walls in which soul lies concealed

Till breaches open portals 

To another worlds majestic views

The crumbling ceiling overhead

Shows canopy of heaven spread

Then all division of Self fades

The parallel universe of the sage

The Canvas

Guess I'll start from scratch again

Not really sure 

How many times that I've tried

Never dreamed it'd be so hard 

To capture you

I thought I knew every line

For in my memory 

It's clear and true to life

The oils on the pallet 

Seem so pale

To the color you infuse in my life

At times it feels so futile 

Using brush and paint

With every stroke I erase 

What I would define

All to start from scratch again

Sketching out the edges of a face

But who can draw a line 

Around the influence of the sun

I think it's finally come to me 

What man can paint is just not what I've seen 

Yours are the fashioning hands 

That made the work of art

Love's masterpiece is captured 

Within the frame of my heart

True works of art God never puts on canvas