pio's place

pio's place


THE GREAT LOVE SPEAKS

You who are sleeping in a beautiful Love
what are you thinking, how do you see?
I am thinking the moon and sun,
a wild bird’s eyes and the hum of a bee,
while you are thinking of computers and cars,
new shoes and meeting some guy at a bar.
I am dreaming you have colorful bones
and can rattle your hands through beams of stars,
and how you are taking your beggar’s cup
and tripping along on a blaze of stones
are dipping it deep in my river of gold,
while you are dreaming of the last lie you told.
Life in my ears is everywhere singing:
the chatter of sparrows, the clatter of reeds.
You heart is silent, except for its needs.
Open your hands over your heart,
the secret sun shines, the liquid gold flows,
the naked child stands in the wind as it blows,
and all the stars dip from the sky through its mind:
when will you awake to all you will find
when your soul from your dream
like a hand from a glove
comes out into view
in my beautiful Love.

pio's place

pio's place

Reflections in a Puddle of Mud Concerning A Long Winter

It has been a long, dark winter here in Sweden. The horses stand dumbly in the mud and ice staring at nothing. The birds seem a little desperate at times. I have been alone a lot and can feel something of the soul dark these northern people suffer.

But today little clouds like puff buttons on the costume of a clown are drifting along merrily in a carnival blue sky. I'm longing for the first real sign of spring. What a celebration that will be in my soul-land: all that lime green freshness sprouting and singing.

Though it seems there is more winter to come, the birds have already become cheerier. I think they can feel into the nature of things with a more poignant sense of where the seasons actually are. I'm hoping for the heart of the world to break open soon and realize the secret sun of Love that never falters beyond these clouds, but then I'm an incurable dreamer.