Reflections on a day meandering

My heart is a zillion whirlpools

spinning in a symphonic chaos.

I race 'tween doubt and doubt

to touch one second of assurance

enough to push me through the gate

The twisted road of hist'ry

where the sure and lame are halt

is the only trail to Home

where You stand at the door.

There I'm Yours, all Yours

A tattoo upon Your arm

written, "Mine, all Mine",

my name inked in red

No mad eyes rolling out of sight in their sockets

nor perfumed anger torching the toxined air

but a Doorjam-Daddy eyeing the distant street

awaiting my return from the stockade of The Found

where I fashioned a home of filth

midst the stick horses loose in the world

Tis there You stand, searching the distant scene

as bedraggled I walk, rememb'ring

those tattoos writ in red

*The Eternal Lament

From my mind 2 the depths of my soul

I yearn 2 achieve all of my goals

and all of my freetime will be spent

on the 1's I miss I will lament

I am not a perfectionist 

but still I seek perfection

I am not a great romantic

but yet I yearn 4 affection

Eternally my mind will produce

ways 2 put my talents 2 use

and when I'm gone I'm done no matter where I've been

I'll yearn 2 do it all again

-Tupak Shakur

*Contemplation does not arrive at reality after a process of deduction, but by an intuitive awakening in which our free and personal reality becomes fully alive to its own existential depths, which open out into the mystery of God.

-Thomas Merton

*For the contemplative there is no cogito ("I think") and no ergo ("therefore") but only SUM, I Am.

-Thomas Merton