Going Up?

Going Up?

I think I am on a flight
do not know if it is a real flight or
a flight of fancy.

I know I have no baggage
I left it all at the station
with a tag marked
"To whom it may concern"

The food is not bad
Because there is no food
The drinks are a dime a dozen.
The little umbrellas are extra.

The in flight movie is a replay of my whole life.
Now where did they get that film footage?
And why is the background music Muzak versions
of old Andy Williams songs?

I look out the window and I see
the Earth spinning around underneath me
I think, "The people all look like ants"
Then I realize they are ants.

All living in a hive. Thousands of individuals
but with only one mind.
Survival of the flattest
Hide amongst the dead bodies of your comrades
Comrade.

I have forgotten my point of departure.
I have forgotten my destination.
I have forgotten the purpose of the flight.

I see strange and beautiful things passing by.
I see wars and rumors of wars passing by.
I see beginnings and endings and still
everything stays the same.

The ants do not seem to be aware of anything
except their task at hand.
Sometimes a butterfly or a firefly comes along
and the ants look up for an instant.

Then they go back to work.

They are completely oblivious of the coming disaster.
Floods, Plagues, Pestilence, Fire, Drought ...
They seem completely unaware of them.
They seem to think that anything that is ignored long enough
will not happen.

Well, it sounds like my flight is ending.
We are descending.
I feel happy and sad at the same time.
Seems like i missed a lot.

I slowly bring my seat to an upright position
and put my feet onto my bedroom carpet.
I wash the sleep from my eyes
I've got to get to work.

Where did that ant come from?
We've got to get the exterminator in here.

Another day, another dollar...

© Aug 27, 2011 Philip G. DeLoach

Cellar Door

Cellar Door

Open up the cellar door
There is something down there
That is not well
It is dry and thirsty
The well has run dry

There are roots in the cellar
I guess that is why they call it
A root cellar.
Maybe so but I don't know
I just no what I sea

All the roots go to one big tree
They say we all live there
In that big old tree
Do not know about that either

The tree has a lot of Rot in it
It needs a tree surgeon
To cut out the Rot
Nobody likes rotten trees

Grow your own branches
To leave or not to leave
Twigs are just little branches
Five will get you fifteen

Two heads are better than none
Some heads are here but
There is nothing in them
Air is where it's at

The strange fruit never falls
Far from the tree
The cellar is not the seller
It is a prison of souls

One day the Man will come
He will set us all free
He will let us go home
Home where our hearts are

The time is not now yet
But it is not far away
Just a puff of smoke from a big peace pipe
Time is on the road again
And eternity is just down the road a piece

I'll have a little eternity please
Don't tell me you are all sold out
Don't lie to me
I'm too sensitive for disappointment

I have a need to believe
In things I can't conceive
We can all join in
Make it a sing-a-long

Or maybe just wander away into
Other Universes
And multitudinous places to be
Besides here

Well, I guess it's neither here nor there
Because we're everywhere all the time
And time is on our side
Temporarily

Is it time to go now?
Are we there yet?

Wake me up when it's over...

© Aug. 29, 2011

Corridors

 Corridors

Gliding down a long dark corridor
Many doors on either side
But one large one at the end of the corridor
It seems so very far away

I am moving slow but progressing rapidly
Occasional movements in the corners of my eyes
Make me think that I am not alone
Out one door and in another

I keep drifting closer to the door
I think I know what is on the other side
I am afraid and elated at the same time
It could be Heaven or it could be Hell

It could be just another corridor
Do I smell the scent of Roses?
Or the smell of an uncertain and unproductive life?
Are my friends really my friends?

What will become of all the history and images
That I have collected in my 62 odd years?
Who will remember?
Who will care?

Everybody says they will but they won't
Everybody says that they do but they don't
Out of sight, out of mind
Absence does not make the heart grow fonder

It just puts space and indifference between you
And the life you hung on to
Clinging to people, places and things as if they were you

The door grows closer now
Ever closer
Do I see a faint light coming from the edges of the door?
Or are my eyes just fooling me into thinking it's there?

I reach for the door knob...
My hand goes through it
My body moves through it
I am on the other side

I am floating in space
Unencumbered
I suddenly realize that  the door is illusory
When you travel through it what you experience
Is whatever you expect to experience

Now I can go any where, do anything, be anyone
Whatever my mind conceives becomes reality
And I know that sooner or later there will be another corridor

Will I remember this one?
Have I been here possibly many times before?

It can not be avoided
We all have a corridor and a door
And choices to be made

What will you choose?

© 2011 Philip G. DeLoach

Time and the Traveler

Time and the Traveler

The Earth is my Mother.
The Sun is my Father.
The Wind is my Brother.
The Waters are my Sister.

I will ride the green Dragonfly
hovering over fields of Drought.
I will soar over mountaintops
in the body of an Eagle.

The Earth and Sky will meet
no longer separate
but will merge as Creator and Co-Creator
only then will all life celebrate
the oneness of all Creation.

I have been here before
done this many times before.
I do not want to do it again.

There are new places
new spaces
where verdant fields
flow with water pristine and clear as crystal.

All places are different
but still the same.
All only Energy vibrating at different Frequencies.

The Roy G BIV of light is only a speck
in the Spectrum.
The beautiful Rainbow reminds us
how limited we are in these bodies
that we have chosen this time around.

Wealth and Power are a fleeting flaw
in our choices of ways to live.
They are but an aberration.
Where is Croesus now?

Empires spring up and fade like last years flowers.
Still, life goes on
the planets revolve around one another.

Time does not March On,
Time spirals and twists like a serpent
in a Web of Energy.

Go as far as you can go
and you will find yourself along the way
and at your Destination.

Time and Space are irrelevant
on the level of Eternity and Spirit.

I am a weary traveler
not sure if I've always chosen the right path.
But all paths are the right path
because you choose it.

So if one day you hear an unfamiliar sound
or see something that shouldn't be there
it may be me just passing through.

That slight breeze on your cheek
in the dusky twilight
with lightning bugs blinking
their love signals
you may hear your name called.

It may be me reminding you that I am here
and will always be here
in some Place
and some Form.

Until I and my brothers and sisters
finally go home to where we all came from.
To the Light and Love of the Creative Intelligence
that you may call God.

© 2011 Philip G. DeLoach

Sky

"Sky"

I want to take the Night Sky
And pull it down to me,
Wrapping myself in a blanket of Stars.
I will be taken -
I can go -

Taken up at the speed of a Musical Note
Played on a Celestial Keyboard.
Up into the Cold and Windy,
Into the Blanket of Blankness,
Where the Small Blue Jewel
Floats in the Black Soup.

Up where the Inside becomes the Outside,
And the Outside becomes the Inside.
Where the Silence is so loud
That Pain cannot be heard.
Where my Hair and Soul are blown
By Solar Winds.

With Sol on my Right,
And Luna on my Left,
I will become so large that -
I will Disappear . . . .

© 1984 Philip G. DeLoach