Ghandi said “There is no god higher than truth”

He also said :

“The truth resides in every human heart and you must search for it there. We must be guided by the truth as one sees it. But no one has a right to coerce others to act according to one’s own view of the truth.”

Albert Schweitzer’s words on the truth were : “Truth has no special time of its own, its hour is now -always”

He also said: “The Good consists in maintaining, assisting and enhancing life, and to destroy, to harm or to hinder life is evil.

We Walk These Valleys
We walk
these valleys
Where at dusk
The willows spill
Their golden tears,
And in spite of
falling darkness and
blood lust of the years,
the hope of a new ascending dawn,
The truth, and a sweeter peaceful song,
Allay the beating
Human heart’s fears.

Be mindful of disaster

Be mindful of The Master

Be mindful of the money

Be mindful of the scapegoat

Be mindful of the stamps

Be mindful of the camps

Be mindful of the harsh divisive masters.

Night Journey with a Voice

Crisp air
on Lansdowne at Seaforth
And headed down
To Queen and
A wall of 3 story storefronts;
Left on Jameson

To apartment house row,
Where the souls mostly pay rent
All in vertical tow
Past king St and right
On to Lakeshore
Steady as we go.
The night sweet,
Heart’s content,
Life is a singular
feast when you’re
Present,
not hell bent.
The black lake,
This time
Is streamed full of light;
The message is sent;
And there’s a slight
Mist on the riot of
streetlights
tall along the
Parallel expressway night.
And to rush the moment
Now
would be an Continue reading →

Night Journey with a Voice

Crisp air
on Lansdowne at Seaforth
And headed down
To Queen and
A wall of 3 story storefronts;
Left on Jamison
To apartment house row,
Where souls mostly pay rent
All in vertical tow.
Past king St and right
On to Lakeshore
Steady as we go.
The night sweet,
Heart’s content,
Life is a singular
feast when you’re
Present,
not hell bent.
The black lake,
This time
Is streamed full of light;
The message is sent;
And there’s a slight
Mist On the riot of
streetlights tall along
Parallel expressway night.
And to rush the moment
Now
would be anathema,
Even with the evening
water sewage plant
smell In the air.

My guide
is a woman’s voice
telling me effortlessly
Where to go,
And I give her rest,
Ease,
and peace
at the driveway
Of journey’s end.

Clear Eyed Cowboy

The cowboy
Looks tired,
Thin
with his tall white
Stetson,
hair pouring out
each side.
His smile sincere,
and his eyes are
clear,
And as wide open
As his penchant for coffee,
blue jeans, and hurtin’ music.

Continue reading →

How can we not share

and let the mists hide

what is there.

Coming soon…..

The gulls, the hawks
The hacks, the doves,
Wings weaving
Feathers all fluttering,
And even
an errant burnt
autumn leaf or two,
Are all flying
angled against
The winds.
And the rains come
Pouring down,
sweeping,
under a darkened sky falling where they will to, and must,
On city towers and humankind alike;
But detained
from the rain,
Are a few rare pockets
of sunshine
In a few certain
and in some
ceratopsian corners
of a bustling
pre-election, predilection
cosmopolis.

Voice

The voice
Of the waves is thunderous
Under the unseen
Animations
of the wind.
The voice heard,
The presence felt.