Friday, September 17, 2010

Los Angeles 2010: Remember Us Kindly

Every once in a while 
a smell reminds me of death.
It might be incense, coal, 
kerosene, firewood burning.
With smell travels images of dead, dying, 
renunciation and everlasting resuscitation.

Every second within one minute 
a sight reminds me of birth.
Sometimes it is trees 
sprouting new leaves, 
flowers budding, 
beach waves crashing.

With sight voyage images 
of conception, birth, growth,
and infinite evolution.

Every day in a month 
a sound reminds me of life.
Most times it is birdsong, 
rainbows, comet trails, 
setting suns, moon rises dawning.

With sound journey images 
of impermanence, chaos, 
peace and eternal spontaneity.

Every month in a year 
a taste reminds me of existence.
Usually it is sweet, spicy, 
sour, metallic air, salty water.

With taste ride images 
of the lure of age, the love of old, 
the old love of the new,
reconciliation 
rejuvenating my regeneration.

Once in a blue moon 
within myself I touch a part of me,
that reminds me of time without end.
Often it is still, poetic, musical, 
accepting beautifully restoration.

With touch move images 
of the sacred-inspirational
geometric proportions
of our aboriginal origins.

I often have reoccurring memories ... 
of a man being beaten to death as a crowd watches.
Survival of the fittest, 
our preservationist anger 
slow-motion-projected into our future.

Our offering to our present and future children, 
the impact of our warring generation.
A heartfelt footprint, 
an endearing bequest, 
a cultural endowment of our civilizing arts.

I am gifted occasional images ...
of an old woman in Vietnam 
spitting and cursing me -
children in China 
stalking me, throwing stones, 
laughing and pointing at me.

We are so busy 
safeguarding our high immoral ground,
and defending our wavering ethics,
we may be remembered 
not as conservationists of our environmental sustainability,
but as defenders of our ability to sustain 
destruction of the moral fiber of our humanity.

I remember when we were 
stellar bodies circumventing 
our galactic outer reaches.

We still are relentless 
falling stars blazing a trail 
across the dreaming sky 
of our celestial wisdom.

We sit centre chair 
in the theatre 
of eternal souls 
courting an audience 
with the council 
for answers -
while we hold space 
on the astral 
for our nightmares 
of karmic retribution.

We need to dance 
the ghost dance 
to resurrect 
the wisdom power 
of our reincarnated ancestry.

Every so often I remind myself 
that we are all here temporality.
We are accelerated time-lapse 
photogenic profiles 
of extraordinary lives 
with notable personality.

So what if this life adds up to 
a few years, months, 
weeks, days and minutes.
It is within the moments 
that second chances 
worth the while are gathering.

I am reconnoitering my proximity 
to my own reconciliation.
Reconnecting my consciousness
with my own truth, my true Self's 
imminent possibilities.

I once heard a musician 
reprising an ancient song 
praising our honor -
singing a morning worship song ... 
for the mourned and the mourning.
Candles were lit to respect 
the many brilliant minds burnt out, 
and those minds still burning brightly.

Trails of tears were cried 
to wash away fears -
historical reservations buried deeply alive 
within the hearts of many.

I once felt sages 
throughout the ages 
whisper warnings of sweet nothings;
“Be. 
Be still. 
Remember us kindly.”

I remind myself 
every so often - 
be, 
be still, 
remember my Self kindly.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
James Dillet Freeman wrote;

Listen to life, 
and you will hear the voice of life crying, 
Be!”