Bench-Warmer

Last one picked, I join the team,
Already huddled, already living the dream
That I keep dreaming from the sidelines,
Running lines, waiting for a chance to take the stage.

I sit, an understudy, jersey and all,
Waiting for Coach to make the call.
But futile, no contest, I can’t compete,
I’m tall and awkward, with two left feet.

I look across the blades of grass,
I move so quick, I run so fast,
I dominate in every way,
and capitalize on every play.
The crowd it cheers, but loudly now,
The play at an end, I take a bow,
And then I wake to the game at hand,
A perfect view from near the stands...

The lights they shine, but not on me,
A win, but no feeling of ecstasy
As I rush the field and fake a smile,
A hypocrite, lost in the pile
Of players.

Stingray

You’re the sweetest thing
I’ve ever seen,
Sleek and black
With a little sheen.
Smiling, you let your
Top go down
So I can ride you
All over town.
I grab you
And shift your gears,
With your subtle roar,
I let go my fears.
I go hard now,
No chance I’ll brake,
At home in you
It’s never fake
The joy I feel,
The freedom, surreal,
From the control I keep
Behind the wheel.

Leap of Faith

Anxiously waiting for my story to unfold,
Patience running out,
Let the truth be told,
Arms reaching out,
I break free from the mold,
Heat rising up,
I turn my back on the cold

And shout to the Heavens:
“Shine your light down on me,
And I will strive each day
To be what you want me to be.
My heart’s locked up
And only you have the key,
So let Mercy’s rain fall
And finally set me free.”

And the Heavens reply:
“All this time I’ve been here,
Even through your darkest years,
But finally you’ve wakened
And opened your ears.
Now, blind yourself to the follies of sight,
And hold my hand, you have nothing to fear.”

And thus I stride, anxious no more,
For though the road may bend,
I will find its end
And enter His abode,
As long as I reach out to open the door.

Wake-Up Call

A heavy head lays to rest
On protruding letters A through Z.
The ringing, a summons you fear,
That leaves you never a moment free,
You blissfully ignore,
For Ignorance is blissful freedom.
Freedom—from the fetters of this world—
For those who sleep with their eyes open.
“Close one [eye] to the world and all that is therein,
[A]nd open the other to the hallowed beauty of the Beloved.”

Against the ropes of Ego you fight
To escape the darkness and reach the light.

Wake up and rise from the ashes,
And like a Phoenix, escape into the starry night,
And soar unto timeless heights,
Above the clouds where love stands still.
Free of the battered temple below,
Assaulted by the winds of time,
Now fix your gaze on the Heavens above
And breathe the scent of perfume, sublime.


*Quote from the Hidden Words of Baha'u'llah, Number 12 from the Arabic

What it Means to be on Top of the World

Across the roof top,
A small, grey blur
Scurries to the murmur
Of the gentle wind.

Freedom he grasps,
His limbs will not fail,
One shingle to the next,
Reaching the Holy Grail.

But louder she grows,
The wind, she cries,
And freedom trembles
Before his eyes.

Then, following the teardrop,
He looks below
At the warmth inside,
The hearth, aglow.

Freedom he would give to be warm and safe,
but, alas, his freedom he cannot escape.

Play-Right

We are all players,
The world is our stage,
And each day we live
Is another turned page.

The curtain rises,
There’s no turning back,
Nowhere to look
For the words we lack.

So onward we go
With no chorus to sing,
For it knows not the end
That our follies will bring.

With our costumes on
And the set designed,
We must simply do
What comes to mind.

And so, to add intrigue,
We play our parts,
And in games of chance,
We bet our hearts.

Lose we might,
As the queen lays beat,
But we play another hand,
Not admitting defeat.

And as we live
From scene to scene,
We take with us
Our hopes and dreams,

Which may very well change
From act to act,
Before they become
A matter of fact.

And in the end
We’ll look and see
That all the hardships
Were meant to be...

But be wary,
For along the way,
The path may curve
And you may stray.

With every gesture
You write the script:
Every hand you kissed,
Every hat you tipped

Will be recorded in time.
Every cry and every curse
Will call after you
As you ride in your hearse.

And once it’s written
That you did fall,
Remember They will,
At the curtain call.

No dress-rehearsal can
Prepare your soul,
No re-write can fill
The forgotten holes.

One chance we have
To write the story
That we will tell
For all Eternity.
Let’s write it well,
And take our bows,
And leave the rest for
The After-Party.

Talking

All talk and no action,
I can’t get no satisfaction.
I clocked you,
Our eyes synchronized.
I’ve stamped my time card so many times,
But I’m not getting paid overtime.
You’re logged in my memory
Even when you’re far from me,
But now it’s time to clear the cachés.
Your image, no longer engraved
In my mind disintegrates into the space between.
Hope, diffused by your fading smile,
Escapes my soul with every mile that
Separates our heart-to-hearts,
For talk is cheap and will continue to be
So long as research develops technology.
But walking those 500 miles
To cross into reality,
And walking 500 more to see all we could be,
Those 1000 miles will get you points—
If you tie up your shoes, I’ll tie mine too,
And when you leave, walk back with you.