scooping up the ocean
with cupped hands
let all of who you are
love this water
because you are you
because water is water

big water
big heart
too much to hold
no need to

this love
in each drop of water
falling from your hands
returns to its vast oceanness

scooping up the ocean
with cupped hands
now hold this love
now give it all away
because you are not you
because water is not water


nothing but this

In the near future, I will post lyrics for the eight songs from the CD that I mentioned back in the first post (that I wrote/composed/recorded this spring, for Senior Year Project at my high school.  You can check out my full project here.)  For now, though, in the vein of trying to express the inexpressible, I think I’ll write a poem… roughly about night, summer, zen meditation and moths.  (With a nod to Tennessee Williams, whose poem I read in English class last year.)


Standing here, we are somehow held up by the ground’s green hair

even as the weight of the sky pulls us down.

passing car sounds float by fast on the road, but voices tend to hang in the calm, summer air.


Lament for the moths - they do not know.

their world is confined to aimless feathery trails, jerky motions, bits of cloth.

they know nothing of distant glints in the night

that remind us of otherworldly realms and of our own simple passing.

and pass we will, from night to dark - though our voices may hang on

for a time, they too will soon be swallowed by the earth.

envy the moths with no voices to lose! moths feel no fear. a moth knows no dread.


As we sit here, we are somehow held up, and turn into ourselves,

even as the weight of our fears pull us down.

passing by our lives so fast, these hanging voice sounds dissipate.

even as we grasp, we find nothing more or less than simply this.

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