Wednesday, December 29, 2010


I could find joy in your embrace,
If only you would hug me.
I could find hope in your words,
If only you would speak,
I could find love in your actions,
If only you would move,
I could find peace in your life,
If only you would live.

I could move mountains with a finger,
If only you would let me,
I could end every storm,
If only peace you would seek,
I could pray for repentance,
If you only forgave me,
I could see light at the end,
Without the past in the way.

I could hear the music playing,
If only you weren't screaming,
I could write every word,
If the noise would subside.
I could trust in the present,
If the past didn't haunt me,
I could hope for the day,
When time set me free.

Whose hand is in mine,
When the bells all start tolling?
Whose prayers do I hear,
When the angels appear?
Whose blood do I shed,
To feel like I'm worthy?
Whose life do I end,
To feel this secure?

I could bask in the sunshine,
If it weren't so damned cloudy,
I could climb to the top,
If my footing would hold.
I could become what you want,
If you could just change me,
I could bring you to smile,
Through the tears in your eyes.

We could walk on the beach,
But the quicksand surrounds us,
We could swim in the surf,
But the tide is too strong,
We could swim to the bottom,
If the water wasn't so murky,
We could head out to sea,
If the waves weren't so tall.

Whose time is so endless,
To be wasted on "if only"?
Whose soul is so bad,
To be thrown into that hell?
Whose forgotten their joy,
In what we call living?
Who wants to start over,
When the death bells ring?


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

The Timer

I am waiting for a timer to go off,
To tell me "it is time",
To remind me of instant where,
I need to end this little rhyme.

Somewhere between then and now,
An eternity will pass,
Sometime between here and there,
I'll have to get up off my ass.

Most likely I will waste this time,
In shear mortal flaw,
Or perhaps I can make use of it,
To describe some of what I saw.

Something strange began to rumble still!!
Ah but I apologize my friend,
The timer's bell has begun to ring,
This little story has to end.


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Tuesday, December 28, 2010


I find a moment to be "separate",
To view the world around me, 
To see what is there without my conditions, 
To feel what is there without my layers,
To hear what is there without my distraction,
To smell what is there without my congestion,
To taste what is there without spice,
To be where not being seems essential.

I learn this view is not to be separate, 
But is to understand what "together" truly means.
To observe is not to be distinct,
But to understand all that binds us in who we are.
I cannot stand to be apart from you,
Basking in my human loneliness,
Toiling in your creation of "me" and what that means,
Or suffering in my creation of "you" and what that means.

There are times when I wish I had no such thoughts,
When I could just stay asleep and not awaken.
There are times when I just wish I could put it all away,
When I could just have a box and never deal with its contents.
Why do I care to know about me? Or about you?
Why do I listen to those who say I am not built for these endeavors,
Or to myself who suggests I am?
The answer will come in times own finality.

For now I will continue the struggle,
When I beg for a touch that never comes,
When I long for the sketch of playfulness that never gets drawn,
When this place doesn't like an invisible, distant shore.
For now I will be who I am, or who I was,
Or who you wish me to be,
Because I know nothing else and can only see what is around me.

There is no failure in the art of trying,
There is only failure in the goal set beyond the limits of reality,
To that, I will remain indifferent. 


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Friday, December 17, 2010

If Only

I could find peace in your arms,
If only they would embrace me.
I could find solace in your words,
If only I could hear,
I could find strength in your wisdom,
If only I would listen,
I could find love in your heart,
If only I could feel.

I could find peace on the mountain,
If only I were there,
I could find joy in the song,
If only I could sing.
I could find the rain drops cleansing,
If only I could run naked,
I could find resolve in your hands,
If only I could hold.

I could find wisdom in walking,
If I could only stop sitting,
I could find silence in the moment,
If I could only sit still. 
I could stop being so bad,
If I only knew good.
I could move on with living,
If only memories would die.

If only mountains would move,
If only the sky would stop falling,
If only angels would fly,
If only love would stop hiding,
If only the clock would stop ticking,
If only you would stand by.

If only...
If only...
If only...

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Life Gets in the Way


Today I envision I am on a mountain.  I can smell the freshness of winter coming with each inhalation, and can feel the release of the warmth inside of me into the entirety of all around me.  I can sense my own smallness in the silence that is while feeling the enormity of who I am in the noise.  The rushing waters in the creek just beyond my eyesight remind me that the Earth does give, while the remnants of man found in trash that eases its way down the waterway reminds me that I do take.  I can hear the songs of birds given me cadence as I head upwards toward the sky.  I give thanks to the young tree that gives me stability when I stumble on the mountains steepness, and offer praise to the old oak that allows me to rest on it when the walking becomes to much.  How fast I can stumble down this mountain, how slow is the climb back up.

The air is clean, the sounds are natural.  There are no cars or planes or trains or others to distract me from that which I am a part of.  I can feel the breath enter my lungs and can feel its gift travel throughout my body.  That is the brilliance of the effort, the more my body needs the more I appreciate what it receives.  I never think of the gift of breath as much of anything until I need to breath hard.  I never appreciate the gift of food until I feel the pangs of hunger.  Perhaps I need to feel them more.  Perhaps I need to challenge this body more so that the mind can appreciate all of the things it takes for granted.  

I look up and see the sun through a clear blue sky.  The wind makes music in the limbs of the trees around me and I keep beat to the sound that rings in my head.  I am nearing the summit, I can see the top through eyes that have so often seen nothing but the bottom.  I can hear the silence through ears that have for so long heard nothing but the noise.  I can feel love in my Being that has so often felt nothing but pain.

I want to share this feeling with others, but simply ask "who am I?".  Certainly the leaves that have taught me a song in my steps know more than me.  Certainly the trees that have given me stability and rest know more than me.  Certainly the birds that sing a song of life know more than me.  Certainly the sky giving a view to the sun above knows more than me.  I am a nothing, and even in this moment's realization the leaves, the trees, the birds and the sky say "we are nothing too.  You have created us as all that we are."  "We are equals," they seem to say, simply being until created into something by someone: superior, inferior, fearful, feared, good, bad.  Imagine man just being man until he created himself as something else.

I awaken from this momentary respite.  I am sitting at my desk looking at a computer screen wondering "where is my mountain?".  I don't have a clue yet, I am simply here being distracted by life and the creations I have made in it.  The noise around me is torturous, I just ask for some silence.  I ask simply for clean air, clean water, and solid footing.  I ask simply for view of the top so that I can get a view from the top.

Someday I will find myself within view of a summit.  I will feel the solid earth beneath me, hear the silence and sounds of nature all around me and know that I am there.  For now, I will let life get in the way.  

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Sunday, December 5, 2010

A Moment's Notice of an Eternal State of Being

I so want to find my soul,
Lost in the wilderness looking for me.
A heartbeat away from remembering,
A lifetime away from rejoicing.

I turn to the mountains to find you,
The softly falling snow's silence only broken
by the sound of rushing water
Cascading down around me as if cleansing my mind.

I hike up to the river's edge,
It's roar calls to me and beckons me to stare,
I feel something,  I feel everything,
A moment's notice of an eternal state of Being.

I once was surrounded by the urban jungle
I could not see the hills beyond the steel,
I could not hear the water rushing above the trucks passing by,
The snow...well it was pushed away by a need to get nowhere.

I once felt rage as I traveled to and fro,
Dealing with the asphalt path and others made just like me,
In a hurry to get nowhere,
In a rush to turn around and do it all over again like drones.

I once breathed air hardly fit for breathing,
I once used so much that I filled endless holes in the earth from consumption.
I sought more than the stuff I had before,
And found confinement in things I thought would set me free.

I once slaughtered a life just like me,
I ate it as if it were going to make me well.
I can hear your cries of fear dear friend,
I can see you suffer as the blood spills from your veins.

It all comes back to me
The stupidity, the depravity, and most of all the insanity.
I see it clearly in this moment's notice of my eternal state of Being,
It was because I was, It is because I am.

The river, now still, allows me to see myself through its eyes,
The silence unbroken as the snow softly settles around me.
I can feel the trees alive around me, I can sense the clean air soothing me
I love what I see, this me, captured by the Oneness all around me.

I don't need You.  I don't need Me.
I have all that I have been looking for on this mountain,
Besides this stream, all around me.
It has taken me far too long to get here, to this place I cannot leave.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Friday, November 19, 2010

A Perspective - The Prodigal Son

There are these moments in my life when I am left to think about that which I am, or that which I have been taught to be, or that which I think is right.  It is never my inclination to discount any of these particular thoughts, although I seem to have been blessed with a short memory for most of them.  The most painful of these thoughts, those that seem to have been the very definitions of the term "me", are the ones that linger like an irritating cough interrupting my restful slumber.  

It seems to be that we humans do spend an awful lot of time wasting away our lives on these meaningless activities.  I so envy the tree as it goes about its life without justification or need to be anything other than a tree.  How strange would this universe be if a tree tried mightily to be more likes its Creator, or even had the audacity to question that which gave it life?   What if a tree could create for itself a condition by which growing upward was wrong?  It would struggle to bend itself toward the ground, its branches pushing upward as its mind pushed downward.  Or what if the sun itself decided that burning brightly and hotly was wrong?  It would struggle against itself to dim its light, and would change our universe forever.

I think about the lonely salmon whose sexual urges push it against the mighty stream.  Imagine if it were written that it was wrong, that not only the act of listening to its nature but also the nature of its act were both wrong.  What would become of the salmon, of its nature, of its purpose?  Imagine if salmon rejected those who saw fit to fulfill their nature.  Imagine the guilt those who simply had not the inclination nor the need to cater to those words of discouragement would feel.   Imagine the shame of "failure" it would feel.  Imagine the distractions it would need to seek to forget who it was.  Imagine the need for "salvation" that this fear would create, and the need to create the salvation as surely as it had the need to create the fear to begin with.

Fortunately for the salmon, the tree, the grass, and all creatures of the earth save man this need does not exist.  They are free to act as they were created to be simply because they have no need to be anything else.  What beauty is there in such a life's purpose!!

I have had the create fortune of revisiting with some others the parable of the "Prodigal Son".  This parable has not only inspired me to untold moments of thought, but also has provided me with a great insight to where I was during any one of these moments.   Regardless of where I was, I choose to only focus on where I am this moment in regards to not only the discussion but the parable.  I no longer seek the perspective of either son, the judged or the judging, but rather the father who simple loves without the need to be either.

There is a bit of each character in all of us.  There is a part of us that is the lost son.  We make mistakes.  We squander opportunity.  We suffer.  Then there is a part of us that is older son.  We work hard to please others.  We strive to do what we are taught is "right".  We suffer.  There is also a part of us that is the father.  That part of us just observes and forgives.  That part not only forgives the parts of us that cause us to suffer, but allows the suffering in order that we may return to it.  We struggle mightily to "sin".  We struggle mightily to stay on the "righteous path".  We struggle so therefore we suffer, all-the-while the father in each of us just accepts, loves, and forgives.

How many of us can truly embrace who we are as either son?  How many of us can learn to be who we are without shame or guilt?  Very, very, very few of us I suppose.  So few that those who can are considered "special".  God's will does not involve "right" or wrong - that is man's will - but rather involves doing.  That purpose we call "God's will" is found in the son whose wild living finds him broke and hungry.  That purpose we call "God's will" is found in the son struggling to remain true to beliefs.  That purpose we call "God's will" is found in the realization that we need our "father" again, as well as in the act of returning to him, and yes as well as in the act of forgiving ourselves in the knowledge that we will leave him again.

It's inevitable.  It's the matter of humans Being.  When we accept our quest to grow toward the sky we limit our suffering in the transformation.  When we accept that the light we emit is the light we are intended to shine we limit our suffering in the creation.  When we accept that the swim upstream is not only necessary but who we are we fulfill our purpose without interference from who we think we should be.

Or not...because in not doing so we are fulfilling our purpose was well.  It's all right, for the sun cannot shine without the darkness of the universe.  The song cannot be played without the silence that allows it to be.  Perfection...all of it.  Peace.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Thought #1

I do, regardless of fit or fancy...simply choose to be.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Thursday, November 18, 2010

My Love

I have hardly but stood in your glow
My Love,
Before the darkness falls upon me
And I begin to stare aimlessly into Nothingness.

There are but few things to comfort me
My Love,
Yet as I inhale the chill of thoughts born yesterday,
You are the feint fragrance of hope that warms my soul.

Though as dark and uncomfortable as I am
My Love,
I do find you the Light and you the Warmth,
That brings me back to Joy's reality.

Who am I to hide these things
My Love?
Does the Sun pretend to be the moon?
Or the Sea pretend to be the cause of its mighty tide?

The answers to all of this
My Love,
Is found in the joy of your simple touch,
In the shiver that touch shoots through my Soul.

I cannot pretend to be anything but
My Love,
Lost in a place devoid of all you are,
Yet found in the knowledge that you are not that.

And torn between the two.

Such an easy choice it seems
My Love,
Yet nothing has been so hard as to choose
Between who I am and who I wish to be.

Into your hands I come
My Love,
Never to be parted as the fault lines fade,
We are, we share, we give birth to


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The Sun and the Earth

Today, when we look at the moon and the Earth, we see a beautiful relationship.  The Earth faithfully orbits the Sun, reflecting the Sun's light magnificently for the universe to see.  The Sun gives us light and warmth with a promise to shine for a billion tomorrows. That, however, was not always the case.

For once upon a time the Sun and the Earth had a much different relationship.  The Sun was angry; sending destructive flares outward into the cosmos.  The Sun burned intensely as all young stars did, searing nearby planets and destroying all that came near him.  The Sun became lonely, but still could not help himself as his heat and intensity caused all in the universe to avoid him.  The Sun was a product of the explosion that created him, and he knew no better because he was just the Sun acting like the Sun he was created to be.

The Earth was peaceful and calm aside from the occasional temper tantrums and changes that came with experience.  She steadily went about her business as she grew, becoming quite a stable planet as time went by.  Objects from all over the cosmos were drawn to her, but eventually they collided with her and caused her great pain.  She felt alone until one day she discovered the Sun.

Other planets had tried.  Mercury came alone at the wrong time and got too close.  She became a barren wasteland and laid to waste by the intensity of the sun's heat.  Venus too had tried, but she also got too close to the Sun's youthful intensity.  Other planets stayed further away, and while they were magnificent in the their own way they could not enjoy the benefit of the Sun, whom they feared.  Those planets were cold and distant, and while beautiful they remained unable to enjoy the warmth.

The Earth was different.  She loved the Sun.  At first she was drawn to him by his size and intensity.  The Sun also loved the Earth.  He enjoyed her beauty and the way she she seemed to love him back.  He didn't feel threatened by her as much as he felt threatened by the memories of what brought him here, to this place and time.  He did all he could to get her to stay away, yet their love would always draw them closer.

As she got closer to the Sun his intensity began to burn her.  His flares would scorch her surface and she would show great pain.  The Sun looked around the universe and saw places that would be much better for the Earth, and in this pain there would be another flare and more pain for the Earth.  "Sun, I need you to end these flares or I will have to go away," she would say.  The Sun tried and tried, and soon the flares became less and less until they faded away.

"Sun, I need you to stop being so bright," the Earth said.  So the Sun tried and tried until his once blinding light became a faint glimmer.  "I need you to be less hot," said the Earth.  So the Sun tried and tried until his once searing heat became more bearable to the Earth.  Yet, as time went on, that one bright part of the universe became darker.  The universe all around the Sun became a frigid wasteland.  The stars shone less brightly, and even the moon went dark.  Even the Earth herself became cold and bored as the Sun worked day and night to be, well, not the Sun.

One day the Sun just could not help it.  He exploded with a fury, sending light far and wide around him.  The moon shined, and the Earth became amazed at the beautiful universe around her she could only see as the Sun shined brightly.  She looked at him and saw his absolute brilliance.  She decided at that moment something that changed them both forever.

"Sun," she said, "I want you to shine.  I want you to be warm.  I want you to be who you want to be."

"But won't that hurt you?" asked the Sun.

"You will be who you need to be and I will be who I need to be.  We need to love each other as we are if we are ever going to survive in this place.  You were created for a reason as was I, and we need to love that purpose as much as we love each other."

The Sun understood, and in his appreciation and love shined just enough for the earth.  During the day, she could bask in his his warmth and his light and at night she could see the beauty of the universe around her because of the light he was.  As the Sun looked out upon the universe, he could see the coldness and the danger, but in his love he learned how to provide the right amount of light and warmth for the Earth.  Every once in a while he would send out a flare to protect her, and she had even learned how to stay close to him even when he was simply being the Sun.  

They had learned harmony through disharmony, love through egoic selfishness, peace through suffering.  Soon, miraculous things began to happen.  Life became abundant on the Earth.  The Earth and the Sun together provided for these miracles; miracles born of the love shared between two unlikely things who allowed each other to be. 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Morning Inspiration 10/5/2010

Freedom is not the pathway to love, love is the pathway to freedom.  Happiness is not the key to acceptance, acceptance is the key to happiness.

And so began my morning in such clarity as to need no interpretation or thought.   It just was, as clear as the sky on a cloudless morning.  You never know when such moments of clarity will come so you just embrace them as they open themselves to you.  Is it possible that these moments are always there but we cover them with layer upon layer of meaningless stuff?  

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

That is Love

When you stand alone on a beach,
And you feel the breeze,
And the water tickling your toes,
That is love.

When you stand as just another part of a crowded beach,
And you feel the breeze as the water tickles your toes,
And you feel contentment in the multitude around you,
That is love.

When you walk among the trees,
And you can hear their leaves rustle,
While  basking in the warmth of the sun,
That is love.

When you open your heart to another,
Regardless of who he is or what he has done,
And you stand in complete absence of judgment,
That is love.

When you stand upright like a blade of grass,
Struggling for nothing but enjoying all you are,
Embracing the ground, the sky and the space between,
That is love.

When you are angry or shudder in fear,
When you hate those not like you,
That part of you who sees this,
That is love.

Love is the rain and the sun,
Love is the silence and the sound,
Love is the patience and the impatience,
Love is the seer and the blind,
Love is yin and yang and the space between them.

So when you cry out loud for it all to end,
Or smile in unbridled ecstasy,
When you fail or succeed or sin or forgive,
That is love.


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ


Can't you hold me for just one moment more?
Can't you tell me that I am needed,
That I am wanted, That I am as great as you?
Can't you find your greatness in me as I have in you?

"I can't my love.
I can't see that you are needed,
I can't see that I want you, I can't be but numb in your arms.  
I can't see that you are great, only that I am greater without you."

Can't you touch me one more time?
Can't you comfort me in this, my hour of need?
Can't you see that I am desperate, That I am completely lost?
Can't you find your way as you lead me to my own?

"I can't my love.
I can't stand the feel of you or the sight of you,
I can't find the means of comforting that which you are,
I can't be found as long as you are the veil that covers me."

Can't you just forgive me of my sins,
Can't love me so I sin no more?
Can't you see that I have no quit in me, That I will lose?
Can't you rejoice in the effort that is made in love?

"I can't my love,
I can't forgive what I can't forgive nor indulge in some Love Boat fantasy,
I can't see anything but a loser,
I can't rejoice in that which can only fail."

Can't you?
I can't.
Won't you?
I won't.
The end.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Monday, September 27, 2010

Psalm 1:2

There is no one coming for me,
No loving whisper in the night,
Just blackness, deep and lonely.

He took up his cross at an early age,
He fell, fell, and fell again with each labored step,
Horrid dreams, eternal and consuming.

There are no heroes in a lonely song,
No saint to wipe this suffered man's face (she has turned away),
Just fantasy, angry and unforgiving.

You have your bridge you fear to cross,
And he had the scenes replayed within his mind,
What you feel as you stand on the wooden span he has felt a million times,
What you see he has seen countless times before,
Yet you behave in a way he has no right to in a reaction he is not allowed to have.
You would leave him in the darkness for what he has seen,
You would cast him aside as if he never tried for the love of his life,
You would pretend you never knew.

Get beaten at the bridge a thousand times,
Have memories there burned into your soul a thousand times more,
Then have what you love say "no" in remembrance of how it destroyed you,
Have what you desire reject the very sight of you because of what it did to you,
Then tell me fair saint, how do you turn away if not because you do not love?

It was love that offered the veil,
It was love that left the imprint.
It was your rejection that caused either to be necessary.

He created himself a monster, and a monster he became.
Such thick skin was needed in order to survive,
You would never have known a dead and rotting boy,
Your treasures would not be there to hold had the monster never lived.
Yet you pretend so easily it is a demon, you never see that it has died,
You are too busy creating it over and over and over again,
So that the monster lives, if nowhere else then in your ability to reject what created it.

"My God, My God, why hath thou forsaken me?"
"Because I can."
"It is finished."
"It was finished before it started, it is not I who created you it was you who created me."
And so it is.  
And so it was.
And so it will always be.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Psalm 1:1

I can no longer hide the essence of who I am.  The basket I've used is no longer thick enough. To share this light with the world; to be the guide toward whatever it is you seek; to strengthen you when you require; to weaken you when you demand; to comfort you when you request; to cause you pain when you need to feel something is my greatest purpose. 

You have torn from me that last great veil!  You have ripped from me the security I once sought with all my being and fed it to the wolves from which I once ran.  You have denied me the simplest pleasure while chastising me for seeking the greatest sin.  For who has that bell tolled if not for me?  Seek and you shall find without the slightest guarantee that what you find is what you were seeking in the first place.

With outstretched hands I beg of you.  Do not spare me from the slightest pain.  Do not keep me from the darkness.  Do not hamper me from the fall I must endure.  Allow me to bask in the darkness and embrace the suffering so that I may know what it is I am here for.  Allow the cup that you pass to press upon my lips.  Allow the nails to do their work.  Allow the taunts and unconsciousness of those around me to cause my wings to flutter uncontrollably.  It is for that you have created me; it is for that I have created my self; it is for that we have created each other.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

A quick thought inspired by a simple picture

I realize that part of man's slide into the abyss began the moment he made food a "commodity".  When that which is so freely given to us by the universe is made into something only those with money can enjoy we have lost something.  When the difference between life and death hang in the balance and some have the power to decide we have lost our way.

Not sure if we will ever get it right before the dawning of the New Earth but perhaps it is one but one sign of that sunrise.  When food is no longer bought or sold but given and taken freely we enjoy the first glimpses of light.  When we don't eat beyond being full, take only what we need and give all that we have perhaps the day has begun.

 To us all that find peace in wanting may we soon find suffering in the desire.  

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Saturday, September 11, 2010


Today I honor those who acted unselfishly in the service of others on 9/11/2001 (and all days) by acting unselfishly in the service of others.  I will follow their example by not becoming a slave to fear but by demonstrating bravery, by not seeking protection but by providing it, and by not discriminating in who can grab my outstretched hand.  Each act of terror allows for moments of bravery.  Each act of chaos allows for moments of order.  Each act of selfishness allows for moments of unspeakable selflessness.  Each act of fear and anger allows for those moments when the eternal flame of love can warm the soul.

The question will always be in our human existence, "To which end to I seek to serve?"

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Too Late for Him

There is such a valley between us,
That once flowed a river of love and complexity,
Teeming with potential and abounding life,
Continuing the promise of surprising simplicity.

Ghosts now wonder where the living once stood,
Reminding themselves of their own importance,
Playing the game as if they invented the challenge,
Preying on time as if the next second were a guarantee.

The valley does hold in it the key but not in it the reality,
On one side there is a wall, 
Built by sorrowed hands and angry thoughts,
Maintained as if by some majestic memory.

On the other is a barren wasteland,
Waiting for the dam to break although not believing in the possibility, 
Remembering patiently the paradise that once flowed around it,
Trying hard not to forget that this hell is not all there is.

Has the ground become so dry that the touch of water sickens it?
Has the parched earth become so thirsty as to not remember being satisfied?
Do the darkened grasses so love their suffering as to not wish it all away?
To what, if anything, would the crazed blades do to become themselves again?

Again the valley does hold in it the key but not the reality.
It longs for the water being held from it but craves the dryness it now is.
It does not seem to wish what was to become what is,
It wishes what is to become what was in something new, something new, something new.

So off I go as a bird fleeing the burning bush,
No longer wanted to be what is or what was...but what will be.
Perhaps this valley does not want me anymore, perhaps I not it,
Perhaps the revulsion I cause of the ground around me sickens me as well.

I have died, more than once,
I have seen the world through tears and through smiling eyes,
I have tasted the salt of my heart and the fear of my mind,
Enough to know that one cannot live on dry bread alone.

So what to quench my thirst on this barren plain around me?
I look to the dam and simply say "fuck it",
I look to the wasteland and say "fuck you too",
I look to the sky and know that is the answer.

So begins the struggle to climb to my life's highest peak,
Weathered feet and leathered hands long for something to hold,
Tired eyes see nothing as tired ears hear echoes from the past,
Calling out yet causing no pause in the ascension.

Alone I stand on one mountaintop overlooking that which is below,
I see across the vastness of what is yet another summit calling out to me,
I reach out to the promise of what could be but fall back again,
Such is the expanse, never seen as so vast until now as I try to bridge it.

I have seen the promised land but know in my heart I shall never kiss it.
Gone is the chance to live it, to die upon it, to become one with it for eternity.
For it plays me as surely as I play it, a game of hide and seek to which there is no winner,
Until the end when both are called the champion.

"He was such a good man" the valley will say,
"He did all he could to sew good seeds" the mountain will say,
"He always tried to be the best he could be" the sky will proclaim,
"Too late for him" say the worms on their feast, "Too late for him."

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


Dream for me my love,
Calm down the anger in my mind,
Find me shade from the sun that burns me,
Accept me in my weakness and in my strength.

Take from me all you need my love,
Allow me to calm the anger in your mind,
And shade you from the sun that would burn me instead,
Allow me to accept your weakness and rely on your strength.

Accept me for what I am,
And I will accept you for what you are,
We can give ourselves to each other,
Or fail to fulfill our promise to eternity.

Dream this dream together,
Or create a nightmare in its place,
Decide the now is better than the yesterday,
And the promise of tomorrow is brighter than a million rules to get us there.

To the "we" we decide simply is,
To the "us" we forgo the "what should be",
To the unending voices that say we shoudn't be,
We shall simply dream.


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Silence - The Relationship with Self

I frown at the thought of mothering yet another pitiful episode of the mad wonderings in my mind that create a sense of insanity outside of it.  Still, when faced with the combined sense of being misunderstood and misunderstanding I cannot seem but help to give birth to such a monster.  Gone are the thoughts of rosy sunrises in which we hold each other tightly.  Gone are the cascades of kisses thrown around as if they are candy during an Halloween parade.  Enter in this scene a morose feeling of incompleteness and solitude combined with fear and a sense of ineptness only experience in both could understand.  I don't sense you have this experience and therefore do not have this understanding.  I am happy for that, for I love you with all of my heart and do not wish such a pain to be burdened by you ever in your life.

So I sit in silence.

Riding the wave has never been so hard.  Caught between the break and the riptide I am slowly losing my way from the shore.  I claw at the water to no avail as the sand and stone fades from memory into nightmare.  I drift away into the nothingness from wench I came, into an abyss so dark as to suggest it cannot exist.  To what do I owe this moment?  Is the "self" I was being so bad as to justify the hell it has been cast into?

The answer is silence.

I once heard a voice that seemed to inspire me.  I once felt tears that seemed to move me.  I once heard cries that caused me to look inward.  Now all I hear are echos from my own mind.  The voice now rejects me as if I were poison.  The tears now sting at my soul and keep me from being able to open my eyes.  The cries now are gone and have been replaced by nothing that matters.  I sit here, a soul of wholeness amidst the broken chains that bound me.  The chains only rattle, they do not hold me.  The links fall to the ground as broken shards of a heart once kept whole by the anger that imprisoned it.  It's funny how the bars of the prison can keep the monster whole until the bars fall and the beast explodes, no longer existing but as a fraction of itself.  

Its roar is now silent.

Oh little boy, scarred by those who claim love, brought into the darkness by those who claim to know the light, who do you latch hold of when the coldness comes?  Who is your savior when you sin against your fairy tale?  Who is your executioner when you are no longer needed to be whole?  Time, my friend, will answer these questions.  Time, my son, will teach you truth.  You will come from solitude and be taught who you are only to find peace in the absence of everything you were taught.  You will rebel against who you are in the hopes of finding who you are.  You will cry, you will scream, you will grasp at nothingness until nothingness is all you know.  You will hear a voice that inspires you, you will cry tears that heal you, you will hear cries that cause you to look inside of you.  Through all of this noise you will see the honesty in its absence.  Through all of the clatter and instruction and direction and conditioning you will see the beauty of the what comes before and after the thunder.

You will smile.  You will love.  You will know silence, and in silence you will know your self.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Saturday, August 21, 2010


I hesitate to write what I am feeling.  What effects will come of such honesty?  A discussion here, a glance there...then it all falls back into place as it is.  My world will spin eastward regardless of what I do to change its direction.  It's like I am a hungry soul left to the whims of charity, a charity that gets bored with the effort and moves onto something else.  I remain hungry...they feel fulfilled.

There is a lesson here somewhere, the challenge is to find it.  To tolerate those who are not show desire where none is shown in feel full when in the midst of a fast.  Those seem to be nothing but the introductory classes to a doctorate degree, the scratching of the surface to a bottomless glacier the shavings of which melt too quickly to be noticed.  I find the time to find the time but not to do much with it.  How sad.

I am just ranting at this point...the frustrations of having to be the yin to the yang...wait, perhaps I am trying too hard to change the yang to be more like the yin.  Just let that fucker go...see it float away like a hot air balloon over the horizon.  Now that would be an awesome trial.  To not need you or your thoughts of me or your thoughts of others.  I nearly laugh at the idea not because of its humor but because of its simplicity.  How can something so simple be so difficult?  

Well, off to keep scratching and hopefully stop caring.  Not sure what this does, but certainly sure of what it doesn't do.


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Little Divinity

In your soul I see nothing but my self,
And in my soul I see nothing but you,
Touching, holding, my little Divinity.

I let go, grasping nothing but air,
"It's not real" I say over and over again,
Until I can almost believe it myself as I tumble into the darkness.

No desire, no longing exists here,
No need to have, yet a have to need,
This bewilderment seems to follow me everywhere.

How does this thorn become as wanted as the Rose?
"Silly question" says the mistletoe to the tree,
"You are mine and I shall suck the life from your limbs."

Such truth resides in this destiny,
I mold it, I nurture it, I allow it to be,
So I swing an ax upon my little Divinity.

When held in intense desire,
Do I puncture you as the thorn?
Or do I sweeten the air you breathe as the Rose?

Do you turn your senses from me?
Or look forward to more?
Which do you find caresses your sweet soul in ecstasy?

Questions...questions...I could scream,
I am as unsure about this as I am about the rotted limb I have rested on,
Such is the reflection I see in my little Divinity.

"You fool" says the mistletoe casually ringing the bells in my ears,
"You have created me and now you wonder why I exist?
Don't blame the nectar for the ugliness you are"

To define myself in how you define me makes me the parasite,
To see myself in what you see in me makes me the fool.
To be my self beyond your thoughts creates such loving ecstasy.

So I must be me in order to be "free",
And I must accept you in order to be "me",
For, after all, I am, if nothing else, a little Divinity.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


So I do not dare find the completeness within me.  What would be the purpose of existing if, in fact, I understood the point of it all?  I don't, can't, will never know it all. That is liberating.

There will be mistakes.  There will be demands to which I cannot answer.  There will be tears to shed and words to be used as daggers forever.  It is our point of existence, our purpose for Being, our mission to which we will never see an end.  For every point of evolution there will be another challenge.  For every loving embrace a bomb shall fall.  For every gentle pat on the back a hard slap in the face.  Imagine this life without the one to balance the other.  What kind of life would that be if we simply had nothing to strive for?

I became pro-life when I started seeing dead children.  I became pro-choice the moment I realized what life would be like without it.   I became free the moment I realized I was imprisoned.  I became liberal the moment I discovered conservatism was a lie.  I became communist the moment I sought to end the thievery.  To which box did you just assign these words?  To which compartment did you just place my thoughts?  To which standard did you judge me at the moment you read simple things entered through a simple keyboard?  Did you even realize that I became these things not through matters of my own creation but through the efforts you provided in order to create me as you wanted me to be?  

My simple answer is "I am".  Create away...make me who you think I am.  Take clay and make it into a vase and it is still clay.  You may make it what you want but, in the end, it is still clay.  And to clay it shall return someday regardless of what I want it to be.  I am meaningless, as are you, except as the Creator, and in being so I am all-powerful.  You are as meaningless as I except as the Destroyer, and in being so you are all powerful, as am I.  We all have this choice, these billions of small moments that decide who we are although not who we were and not who we will be.  Focus a billion times on each of these billion moments as they arise and you will define eternity.

We will make mistakes, and in doing so will continue perfection.  We will slap the face of a friend, and in doing so will be the best friend we can be.  We will turn our back on our brother and in doing so will provide him a target to focus on.  We will ignore our abuser and in doing so turn to face the light of love that surrounds us both.  The balance of the moment will never be distorted by the choice we make but exists because of the choice we make.  Just love who you are and what you do and allow others to be free as well to be as they are.  It's all just so gloriously perfect.

This post is a result of my midday meditation.  It has not be proofread or edited in any way, so please don't shoot the messenger who can't speak or spell clearly.  Just <3.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Take me home

I love you.

I have always loved you.

You are in my dreams, you are in my soul, you are the very fabric of my existence.

You are burned into my mind; you are the sight that helps me see.

You are that forevermore.

You are the part that was before the part that is; you are the reason for it all.

And now I rest; sweet slumber take me home.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I Have Said Goodbye to Anger

So I was alone, helpless as the day I was born.  Actually, I was even more helpless, because in addition to not having hope I knew I did not have it.  So there I lay, floundering in my own despair, searching for a light to guide my way.  I reached for you but you weren't there,  gone was the life-after-life - the solace to which I had become accustomed.

You were my strength; you were my weakness.  You cradled me in your arms as I sat helpless and bleeding.  You stood with me as I faced torment.  You lit my way as I groped down the narrow valley in which I was thrown.  You held me up when I thought I would fall, you pushed me down as I struggled to stand.  You helped me find my way as you kept me lost.  You gave me a name even as I had forgotten who I was.

You helped me escape unbearable suffering as you heaped on the misery.  You filled my cravings as you kept me wanting more.  You kept me from looking by telling me what I saw; you stopped me from searching by destroying all I had found.  You forced me to be who I wasn't so that I could escape who I was; you created disdain for me while holding me true to a lie.   I do not judge you in these descriptions, they are what I see when the blinders have been removed.

I have said goodbye to you.  Not because I see you as good or evil, and not because I dislike you.  I have said goodbye because I no longer need the walls that you create.  I have said goodbye because I no longer fear my shadow.  I have said goodbye because I have said hello to the me that was before I embraced you.  I love you for the experience you have given me and for the now that I live in joy.  I could not have gotten here without you.

Goodbye to you my friend; my foe.  I am sure we will meet again someday, yet I can promise you that I will see you this time.  I will feel you come and I will simply try to watch you go. 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Sunday, August 8, 2010

When You Are Ready, The World Will Change

You keep creating distractions,
Then wonder about focus.
You keep building up walls,
And then point out the divide.

You keep longing for truth,
While creating the lies.
You keep striving for justice,
While committing the crime.

You keep saying you're lonely,
Then push all away.
You keep saying you're scared,
While creating the fear.

You keep searching for heaven,
While making the hell.
You keep crying about illness,
While not living the truth.

You keep grasping for straw men,
And blame them for failing.
You create the wrongness of others,
Just to pretend you are right.

When you can see all these mistakes,
As human perfection,
When you see angels above 
As the one next to you.
When you see heaven among you
As the cravings are calling,
When you find nature within you,
And find simple truth.

You are ready, and the world will change.

When you can help out your brother,
Regardless of judgment,
When you can hold out your hand,
As your mind is in pain,
When you can forgive what is evil,
As the bombs are falling,
When you can stop all pollution,
Without destroying yourself.

Then you are ready, and the world will change.

Written to me, for me, and about me.  Any correlation between my real experience and yours is strictly coincidental.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ