A Story Briefly Told

what meets me on a fresh, empty page is my own promise, a reflection of a selfless start before my personal world begins. There's no story told until first word marks the page. There is no personal saga until thoughts linger as a story. Writing, now, it's just words across the screen. I'll assign no meaning aside a title and leave these words behind. It's just a moment, empty, and a story briefly told. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

My Agenda

certainly there's my own agenda, a wish for happiness, ease, and peace through everyday life - yet mostly there's life, happening through currents unplanned by my own sense of doing. To the extent that I am able to surrender to these greater currents - my personal agenda falls without measure. More so, it seems, there is no point to even surrender. Life is happening, there's only currents in a stream of one existence, and there's nowhere else I could belong. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Air to Wing

air to wing, emptiness to form - one thing 

expressed in the flight of 

imagination,

and so, as well, my own inclusion.

~

it's not difficult to see - nature shows only cohesion, a birds wing is never questioned in flight, it's not foreign to air. It's the same with a tree, rooted deep in earth and reached to sky, yet at no point not belonging to and as the whole. Both bird and tree are objects in a sense, qualities unique to their present form - the same can be said for myself in observation. But can I find a line that breaks this into singular, individual existences? Is there a clear space of distinction between wing and air that demonstrates one is existing in a separate realm from the other? Finding don in my own observation, I must include myself as well within this seamless wonder. Indeed, from air, to wing, to me - it's all one thing. 

Peace,

Eric 

This Green Ascension

it's my season too - not removed in space or even

moment from blade of grass or first bud

blooming, 

belonging fully to this 

green ascension 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Bound to Fail

honestly, it's not truth I'm looking for, I'm not  in search of ultimate understanding or explanation on the why and how of the universe. My aim is poetry - a flow of words that lightly touch upon the indescribable beauty of reality. From beginning word I am always bound to fail, and it's with a smile I add each further word along. It's enough to just be an expression of that beauty, as writer, as one given in attempt to capture what the moment holds, as someone not afraid to fail at every try - it's simple, really, we are the beauty we seek to know.

There's nothing more to add. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Of Goals

of goals - this been a distinct shift, subtle, yet meaningful in their presentation. No longer do I feel in pursuit of something distant, outside my present situation. The motivation to chase is now absent. There are still clear things I wish to explore, to own, and even to achieve - but it seems more to be just another avenue of self appreciation, a means of knowing aspects of myself not yet revealed. This shift went unrecognized for some time, causing conflict in my usual chase for meaning. Things that once had a clear standard of achievement, satisfaction for completion, and effort to make it all happen, simply no longer had the same appeal. Still, I found myself in the same habit of pursuing these activities but no longer with the sense of purpose as before. They felt empty. Things have settled now, I'm seeing my own life unfold in a unique fashion that doesn't seem to fully require my own direct participation. I am pointed in a direction, by a mystery still and always unknown, and without pursuit I simply follow clues given from this great unknown. Without self assigned meaning - there is only the happiness of doing, being present to each step along the way, and the worthiness of motion for it's own sake. Perhaps the goal all along was this realization, or perhaps even this is just another step along the way. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Not Removed

to find myself not removed, life in full, expressed even as the smaller voice that whispers I'm not part of this completion. In this great belonging nothing that appears is separate from the whole. Thoughts are not my enemy, ego is not my imagined self that seeks to own my world - yet too, they are but a small part of my existence. Seeing myself, now, in the light of this completion, there is no aspect, no single part of life itself, that can be claimed as not belonging. It's all one thing, and pointless to fight against ourselves in a civil war based on a belief that we're not whole. To find myself not removed, but only life, in this moment thinking, writing, believing myself to be an ego completely on it's own - it's all just ripples in the same stream of all existence. There's nothing more to do but relax and be exactly what I am. 

~

Peace,

Eric