Back to Shore

In my dreams bodies come and go,
scenes run their courses fluently.

Reunions held at old high schools,
chapels filling with silent mourners.

The Great South Bay still the same,
but in the mansion decades race by.

Time is no friend to the hangers on,
rolls over rock and limb, all of it goes.

I linger with some more than others,
some living, some dead, some coming.

Here we ask for meaning and syntax,
there we realize there is no “there.”

In dreams begin responsibilities, sure;
we also blend our DNA as lovers, too.

There is only That Which Is, bold, free,
uncompromising in its perfect loving.

I often awaken a bit confused, not sure,
is there anything more real than this?

Daylight slips through last night’s slits,
riding over blinds, slipping in silently.

Rolling over, I wish to go back, but
can’t; the night is finished, day anew.

I look at where you used to be with me;
it remains empty and embraces silence.

In the end are the lifetimes out on loan,
how they fit where and how they rhyme.

Drifting back into the sea of love and mercy,
dreams roll over me, a tide of grace brings
me back to the shore.

© John Kadela

Down to You and I

Let our seeded spring unfurl Itself,
such blooms planted now hold soils.

My dreams coiled new DNA, practicing,
a hollow reed I am echoing your eyes.

Fear cannot stop who we are born as ,
gestures of love come as they come.

The ocean moves showing its magic,
slipping- sliding tides as fading dreams.

I had to accept so much just to see,
even broke of time, money & place.

I look around, see abundant light,
no end in sight of the possibilities.

Hearing others moan, “I don’t have,”
or “I cannot do it,” is a memory now.

Stand still and flap your wings, then,
knowing you don’t know lifts you up.

Inside-outside reverse and flip over,
making available to the soul a prime.

This week brings a breathing Light,
a speech made of eons of galaxies.

It comes now down to you and I,
joining a letting go and letting God.

We don’t really know what that is,
letting go of anchors of the Earth.

Tomorrow’s light joins us together,
clouds pass in sweet surrender too.

Let the armies stand down just so,
begin the celebration of the new We.

There are no borders left to cross,
no one left to serve but the Lord.

© John Kadela

Inaugural Post

This is the beginning of a literary project. Yet beginnings are misnomers. We can no longer say "in this age," or "at this time" without in some sense falsifying the truth revealing itself to us. Consciousness speaks. It's first word may have been "being" or something equally simple. What is clear is we are living in a time of great revelation and expansion.

Great love comes with a realization: love is an active energy of creation. Making our love known deepens our awareness. This project is therefore about appreciation and the speech of consciousness in all its infinite variety. So here there will appear stories, poems, reflections and musings of this exciting moment without end.

There is no formula for what is, nor is there a theory for it adequate to the reality. Always ahead, just around the next bend, going up the mountain, flowers suddenly appear at altitudes without limit. The smell is pure, the color dazzling.